Minutes to Midnight
by Dracoqueen22
Summary: A series of ficlets. Eventual Gin/Ichigo. Sequel to Falling Inside the Black. Ichigo adjusts to life in Hueco Mundo and slowly finds the path he wants to take. AU after Chapter 295.
1. The Nightmare Begins

**Disclaimer for the entire series: **

_Bleach does not belong to me. Tite Kubo has that honor. I am merely borrowing without permission. I am making no money from the writing of this fic. _

_Also, all of the characters depicted in sexual situations within this fic are of legal age. In the case that I erroneously state otherwise, please consider it an error that I will work to find and correct. _

_Therefore, in most cases, this will make the fanfiction presented AU._

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**Title: The Nightmare Begins**

**Characters: Gin, Ichigo, Aizen, random Espada and/or Arrancar**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Spoilers, AU to Chapter 295 and beyond, much like its prequels**

**Words: 3188**

**Description: Partner to _The Darkest Reflection _and _Falling Inside the Black. _Starts the _Minutes to Midnight _series. This was supposed to be his new home. But Ichigo doubted he'd be able to find his way around even with a map.**

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"These will be your quarters."

Ichigo's eyes swept throughout the room as he stepped inside, taking in the stark, pristine nature of the design. Everything was white and clean. Crisp almost. It was fully furnished, a couch shoved against the wall and what looked like a bedroom through a side door. A window opened up to the desert, the black sky and pale moon visible just beyond. It wasn't exactly the most interesting of views.

"You knew I was coming?" Ichigo asked as he surveyed what was to be his new home. He supposed in time he could used to it, could make himself comfortable. But for the moment, he sorely missed his bedroom in Karakura.

He turned to look at the man he would now be serving, depending on whichever way he decided to regard the situation.

Aizen inclined his head, his voice a smooth tenor just behind him. "Let's just say it was intuition," he answered in his usual obscure tone. "Gin?"

Seemingly melding from the shadows, Ichimaru stepped into view, pausing beside his former captain. They were both framed by the doorway, the sight of them still surreal to Ichigo.

"Yes, Aizen-taichou?"

Aizen smiled, though it could have been construed as a smirk. "I have other business I must pursue. Take care of Kurosaki-kun."

"Hai!"

Ichigo could have sworn, that like before, hearts fluttered around Ichimaru's chirped response. It reminded him of the first time he had seen the man, standing thin and proud on the other side of the gate, as if a mere breath of wind would whisk him away. Ichimaru had been the first captain he had encountered in Soul Society, giving him his first taste of the true power of Gotei 13. For that reason alone, he hadn't ever been able to forget the man.

Turning back towards his new associate, Aizen tipped his head. "I will see the both of you at dinner. Do try to get along."

With that enigmatic statement, he departed, steps a bare sound against the floor. Ichimaru and Ichigo watched him go with interest until he was out of hearing. The boy turned towards the former captain.

"So, you're my tour guide?"

Ichimaru's smile deepened. "If that's what ya want."

The Vizard snorted and turned his back on the unfamiliar room that was going to be his home. "Is it some special skill that lets you pop out of the shadows?" Ichigo asked as he crossed the floor and stood before his companion.

He shook his head, sounding pleased by the question. "No. But I can teach ya, if ya would like."

"I don't really plan to go sneaking around."

"Too bad. It's alotta fun," Ichimaru chirped, stepping out into the hallway.

Ichigo moved to follow, pulling the door to shut behind him. The silence of the corridor greeted them, still and pale light gleaming from above. He knew it was going to be a long while before he grew used to Aizen's austere way of decorating.

"So what do ya do fer fun other than destroyin' Hollows and invadin' places," Ichimaru asked cheerfully as they started down the hallway, Ichigo following the man's lead.

A smirk curled Ichigo's lips. "What do _you_ do for fun other than making plots and popping out of the shadows?"

Ichimaru's grin widened. "I smile a lot. Helps ta pass the time." He tilted his head, giving the impression of watching his younger companion searchingly. "Ichigo-kun scowls, doesn't he?"

Predictably, Ichigo found himself glowering, eyes thunderous. "You're quick, aren't you?"

Tucking his hands into his voluminous sleeves, Ichimaru gave a noncommittal hum. "Ya know, there's this question I've been meanin' ta ask ya."

Though wary, Ichigo prompted him, "What?"

"Is that yer natural hair color?"

The Vizard blinked. That wasn't what he had been expecting at all. Maybe something to do with Rukia. Or his Hollow. Or Soul Society's plans. Or his own choices. But an almost normal query into his hair color completely threw him.

He bristled. "Is that yours?"

"Yes. I can prove it, if ya want."

The blush that took over his face was brighter than Renji's hair. "No, I believe you," Ichigo hastily amended.

Ichimaru looked at him, clearly thinking the younger man was absolutely adorable. "Yer cute when ya blush like tha'."

It only prompted Ichigo's face to darken further, and he furiously wished he could scrub the crimson from his face. It was like being in the same room as a naked Yoruichi all over again. Gah, cat!

"I'll bet yer girlfriend finds it cute, too," Ichimaru continued.

Ichigo nearly choked on his next breath, narrowly escaping from tripping on his own feet in surprise. "Girlfriend?" he spluttered. "Who?"

Genuine surprised registered on Ichimaru's face, his brow rising. "Hime-chan."

"What makes you say that?" Brown eyes widened in confusion.

"We used ta talk some when she was visitin'," Ichimaru answered cheerfully. "We'd get ta chattin', and she'd always talk 'bout ya. Like how ya've known each other fer a long time. So I just figured."

Ichigo shook his head. "She's not my girlfriend," he answered, though the entire conversation was beginning to seem very surreal.

He had just been here, in this very place, rescuing the topic of the conversation. Not only that, it was like he was discussing his sex life or something. It was weird yet strangely comfortable. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I don't see her that way," he felt compelled to add, clarifying his point.

They came to a stop, the hall branching into two corridors in front of them, one to either side. Ichimaru gestured to his right, and Ichigo followed his finger.

"That's where the Espada rooms are."

Ichigo hastily moved away. "Yeah. Let's not go that way," he suggested, already stepping towards the left hall. He had no desire to counter any Espada at the moment. Especially not blue-haired idiots or cold-eyed bastards, who didn't have any expressions but still somehow managed to mock everything he did.

The former captain fell into step beside him, clothes swishing as he walked. "Don't ya want ta visit, Grimm-chan? I think he misses ya."

Ichigo snorted. "Not likely." He corrected, "But I might go see Nell later."

"If she doesn't find ya first," Ichimaru inserted knowingly, reminding Ichigo that the two of them appeared to be friends in some fashion.

Ichigo had a sudden vision of Nell claiming his shoulder like his own personal Yachiru. The next he'd knew, he would be going the completely wrong direction and letting a little girl boss him around. Then again, Rukia did it anyway. The only difference would be his new shoulder ornament.

The thought was slightly terrifying. But mostly, it was annoying.

Next to him, Ichimaru chuckled. "That's a scary face," he commented, tilting his expression towards Ichigo. "Didn't ya got a body? Ya didn't leave it layin' around, did ya?"

"I have more sense than that," Ichigo retorted. "I gave it to Kon—err, my mod soul. And then, I sent him with my family."

"Ya have a mod soul?" Ichimaru sounded surprised. "Soul Society said they're supposed ta be destroyed."

Ichigo snorted. "They said the same damn thing about me, and you see how much I agreed with that."

The other man's smile widened, becoming a touch more amused. "So true."

They turned a corner and hit a longer corridor, lined with several large, double doors on either side. They were as plain as the rest of the design with a few black line patterns in elegant swirls the only decoration.

Ichigo's eyes were starting to hurt, wondering if there was ever going to be any relief from all the _white_. Honestly, there were other colors. And it all looked so sterile.

"These two doors lead ta the dining room and the kitchens." Ichimaru indicated the left side. "And these're all entrances ta the communal baths. Fer us ta bond, says Aizen-taichou."

"Bond?"

Ichimaru's hand returned to his sleeves. "Well, Aizen-taichou wants us all ta get along, ne?" he answered, continuing the tour.

Their steps barely echoed in the stillness.

"Does that include me?" Ichigo asked, half-wary and still uncertain about his choice.

He had known he couldn't remain in Soul Society, but he could have also stayed away from the fighting. He had come to Aizen because he couldn't stand idly by. Not when the Gotei 13 deserved to face his ire, _fear_ his anger.

"If ya want," Ichimaru tilted his head to the side, watching him. "Yer one of us now."

Ichigo wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He was supposed to be one of the Shinigami as well, though they had only gone so far as to accept him as a substitute. And in the end, he had been nothing but a means to an end. To be quickly thrown away and destroyed once he had served his purpose.

"That's easy to say," Ichigo retorted bitterly, feeling Zangetsu thrum against his back in agreement; Shirosaki cackled as well. "But Soul Society said I was one of them, too."

"I think by now ya can tell we're not like them," Ichimaru countered, a touch of softness to his voice.

The Vizard frowned, wanting to believe but decidedly more cautious this time. "I don't know. I don't know you at all."

"Now's a good time ta ask. What do ya want ta know?"

Ichigo was silent for a moment, musing. "Why did you do it?" he questioned suddenly, fixing his gaze on the other man. "Not Aizen or that other guy. But why did _you_ want to leave?"

The way that Ichimaru inclined his head at him, Ichigo could tell that he was considering. Perhaps the man was debating honesty or falsehood. From the way he had been treated, the only thing Ichigo wanted to hear was the truth. No more lies.

After several long moments, Ichimaru finally conceded to speak. "I know that Soul Society's corrupt, but it's more than that," he began. "I believe in Aizen-taichou. He's never been anythin' but honest ta me."

"How?"

His face tilted towards the floor, silvery strands sliding forward into his face. "Aizen-taichou never treated me differently cause I was from Rukongai. Unlike the others." Ichimaru paused as though remembering. "Even those from Rukongai didn't want anythin' to do with me. I guess my smilin' made 'em think I was some psycho killer or somethin'."

His words had the distinct ring of truth, too filled with some nameless emotion for Ichigo to think them false. Unlike what he had heard from his so-called friends. Soul Society's words rarely sounded genuine, always echoing hollow and empty. Their empty promises. Their hollow truths.

Ichigo inclined his head, turning over Ichimaru's explanation in his mind. He honestly didn't know what else to say since it seemed like such a personal confession.

Silence fell between them, heavy yet somehow managing not to be uncomfortable. It was a musing sort of quiet, as if Ichimaru didn't speak just to give him time to think.

They rounded another corner, coming face to face with a door before the hall continued on, jutting harshly to the left.

"That's the library," Ichimaru explained as Ichigo studied his surroundings. "Ulquiorra's in there a lot."

His initial interest in the room waned when he heard of its constant visitor. But then, Ulquiorra was not Grimmjow. He was not the type to spontaneously attack Ichigo, not unless his dear Aizen-sama commanded it. They would probably be able to share the space without any hostility.

They continued on their tour as Ichigo made a mental note of the location. Not that he felt he would be able to find it on his own. Every hall looked the same, every door. How was he supposed to navigate in a place with few windows and no signs? At least in Soul Society, he could jump to the nearest roof to get his bearings.

Or maybe that was Aizen's intention.

It wasn't as if he could stop and ask for directions. Most of the Arrancar they passed gave him strange looks, skittering to avoid he and Ichimaru as though they felt they were going to be attacked at any moment. Admittedly, he was a lot stronger than they were, and his reiatsu still had a tendency to leak. But that didn't explain the complete fear in their eyes.

Beside him, Ichimaru continued to chat, pointing out a few more doors that held little interest to Ichigo. At some point, he stopped trying to remember where he was going, figuring he would never be able to keep track anyway.

Instead, he watched as they were given a wide berth. Eyes followed Ichigo's movements, flickering from his clothes to Zangetsu and to his face. There were quiet whispers that were hardly loud but echoed for some reason. He couldn't make out what they said, but the fear in them was pretty easy to discern.

Zangetsu thrummed uneasily on his back.

"And that hall leads to the labs," Ichimaru announced brightly, gesturing down a long length of hallway where strange Arrancar skittered back and forth. "Aizen-taichou and Szayel-chan have the biggest ones, but there're a few empty spots. Ya can have one, too, if ya want."

Ichigo furrowed his brow in confusion. "What the hell would I do with it?"

"That's up ta ya," his guide responded with a chuckle.

Snorting, Ichigo glanced around pointedly. He watched as a female Arrancar pressed herself against the wall and slid along it as she passed by before hurrying down the hallway.

"I'm being watched," he commented, frowning.

"Well, yer still a Shinigami," Ichimaru replied, one hand snaking out and tugging on the sleeve of his shihakushou in a flitting motion. "At least, fer now."

Technically, I'm a Vizard," Ichigo reminded him.

It was so ironic. He had always argued with Shinji about not being a Shinigami, and now, he readily called himself a Vizard.

Ichimaru's smile widened in amusement. "How true, Ichigo-kun. I am, too. I'll show ya my mask, if ya show me yers."

Ichigo looked around them. "Here?" he asked.

They were in the middle of the hallway! Not that it had stopped Dordo-what's-his-name from attacking him way back then.

"There's a training area just ahead."

"_Now__?_"

Thin, pale fingers wrapped around his arm. "Yep!" Ichimaru chirped. "Come on, Ichigo-kun."

Before he could even register what the man was doing, Ichigo was being dragged down the hall with a grip that seemed too strong for such a frail frame. Though Ichimaru masked it well with the heavy, voluminous robes. He could only assume they were heading towards the training grounds and practice arena.

"Shouldn't we be going to dinner?" Ichigo protested, his grumbling stomach in complete agreement. Though he was slightly afraid of what might be served.

"It's not time yet," Ichimaru called back to him. "Besides, Aizen-taichou wants me ta show ya a good time."

Ichigo stumbled along after him. "I'd rather not."

His guide ground to an abrupt halt, releasing his arm, which Ichigo was all to willing to take back. "Shy, Ichigo-kun?" Ichimaru questioned, that grin widening.

Ichigo stood his ground. "I just don't want to call him out right now." He cleared his throat, suggesting, "We could finish the tour."

Brightening, Ichimaru nodded. "I still haven't shown ya Aizen's playroom."

Fearing that he was blushing again, Ichigo choked on his next breath. Playroom?

"Um..." he began, hesitating as Ichimaru abruptly changed directions, forcing them down another hall. "Should I see it?"

"Of course!"

The next direction change had Ichigo hopelessly and completely lost. If someone asked him to return to his room at this point, he would have to tell them he was planning on sleeping in the hallway. His mind was spinning. And unless he had a full-blown map with little "You are here" dots and helpful, pointing arrows, he wouldn't be able to find anything.

It wasn't long before Ichimaru led him to a huge set of double doors, rising almost completely to the already high ceiling. Ichigo was reluctant to enter, not wanting to see anything that might construe a playroom. His guide either didn't care or didn't notice because he was immediately dragged inside. The door slammed shut behind him; he was trapped.

Though he didn't want to, Ichigo looked, only to find it was nothing like he had expected. It was merely Aizen's throne room, though why Ichimaru had called it a playroom he wasn't certain.

It was white; everything was white. Even the wide, flat floor was a grayish sort of white that made his eyes ache. Ichigo stepped further inside, his waraji tapping against the tiles. On one end of the room, nearest to where he stood, Aizen's throne stretched above him, the back of it surrounded by shadows.

Ichigo blinked.

"It's really... high," he commented rather lamely. "How does he get up there?"

It was an honest question. There was no evident ladder or stairs, just a large throne.

Ichimaru simply laughed. "It's a secret. Ya'll just have ta wait and see."

A noise floated to Ichigo's ears in that moment. It reverberated lowly, a faint sound almost like a chime announcing the hour.

"What's that?"

"Aizen-taichou's clock," Ichimaru chirped. "It's time fer dinner."

He supposed that made sense. There was no sun in Hueco Mundo. How else would they tell the time but a giant, loud clock?

Ichimaru gestured towards a door on the other side, small and rather unassuming. "We can go that way ta get ta the dining room."

"I'll never find my way around," Ichigo put in with a sigh, saying it more to himself than to his guide.

"Ichigo-kun'll get used ta it," Ichimaru responded. "It's not so hard."

Ichigo snorted disbelievingly. But he supposed he did sort of owe Ichimaru something for the tour. Even if Aizen had commanded it. The former captain didn't have to be friendly or even answer his questions honestly. But he had, and that meant something to Ichigo.

At the door, Ichimaru was waiting patiently for him.

Ichigo fidgeted. "Thanks, Ichimaru."

The man positively beamed. "We're friends now, Ichigo-kun. Ya can call me by my given name."

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish expression burning his cheeks. "I don't know what it is." He never had been good at such things. And it's not like any of the Shinigami had ever told him.

"Ya don't really know any of us."

"No."

Ichimaru herded him out the door ahead of him. "Well, it's easy!" he chirped. "There's Kana-chan. And Aizen-taichou. But ya can probably call him Sousuke. And then, there's me."

The former captain smiled, the curve of his lips somehow suddenly that much more genuine. Ichigo felt brightened by it, glad that he hadn't offended his guide.

"Ya can call me Gin."

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a/n:

Yes, this is a series. In conjunction with the aforementioned one-shots posted separately, _Minutes to Midnight _is the continuation. There will be ficlets and one-shots, all in this universe, along with a fic actually being told, woven in the ficlets. I hope you enjoy! So alert this if you want to know the next pieces!

Thanks for reading! I'd love some feedback!


	2. A Change of Attire

**Title: A Change of Attire**

**Characters: Ichigo**

**Rating: K+**

**Warning: None **

**Words: 865**

**Description: Clothes don't make the man. Choices do.**

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When Ichigo returned to his room after dinner, with plenty of directions courtesy of Gin, it was waiting on his bed for him.

He didn't know who had made it in such a short time or if Aizen had ordered it be crafted long ago, somehow knowing that Ichigo would be coming to him. And the boy wondered who made it and how they knew his size. But he supposed neither explanation changed the fact that it was there, waiting for him. Ulquiorra probably had put it there. He was utterly devoted to Aizen, and he seemed the one most likely to obey.

Ichigo closed the door behind him and stared at the innocuously folded pile of fabric, all white and barely present black lines. It was the final step, he realized. The last bit that would separate him from Soul Society's substitute Shinigami to one of Aizen's allies. One of his _minions_, for lack of a better word.

He could use Aizen's word. Claim he was part of the "family." But Ichigo wasn't sure if he was ready for that much right now. He was still reeling from the unexpected turn his existence had taken. But just as when he had become Shinigami, he was learning to adapt. To accept what he had been given and his own choices.

To this day, he still did not regret what he had done to save his family. Not for one single second.

The change of clothes still sat there, waiting patiently for him to put them on.

Curiosity compelled him, and Ichigo crossed the floor. He hovered before them, pulling the first item out of the stack. It was a dark blue obi, a pretty basic color. It didn't ally him towards anything in this place. Black was for the Espada. Deep scarlet was for Aizen. Pale blue for Gin. And orange for Tousen.

He set the obi to the side and withdrew the rest of the outfit, laying out the long robes and looking at them. They weren't too bad, he supposed. All slim lines and trim fit, exactly how he preferred to wear his clothes. In fact, it looked like his robes in bankai. Except for white and without the ragged edges. There was another layer though. Something that would fit under his shihakushou, like an under robe. And it, too, was white.

His fingers settled on the fabric. Soft and comfortable. Something he could move in. Easily mendable. Yet strong enough to provide some protection. Thick enough for warmth in the chill of Hueco Mundo. It was perfectly suitable for everything. Ichigo was willing to bet that Aizen had planned it that way.

The boy took a breath and calmly removed Zangetsu from his back, setting him down on the bed. With a quick motion, he had also removed the red strap, laying it next to his zanpakutou.

He looked at the stack of clothing, on second glance realizing that a new strap had even been provided for him. It was the same shade as the obi, a very dark blue. Aizen had planned for everything.

He wondered what would happen after he changed clothes. Would his bankai reflect his change of attire? Would Shirosaki suddenly show up in black clothes? Would his unconscious realizations affect how he looked?

He had never really considered that before. Whether or not his own thoughts changed his appearance. He supposed it had never really mattered to him earlier.

He stared at the clothes a few minutes longer. It really was the last step.

Ichigo thought of his choice and his decision. He thought of Soul Society's repeated mistakes and its attempts to bury each one in the past. Of the Bounto and the Quincy, the many innocent lives lost. Taken. Stolen.

He remembered Rukia's tears, her belief that death was what she deserved simply because a group of dodgy, old farts decided it. He thought of Orihime's innocence, how they planned to so callously steal her life just because she _might _turn out to be a threat. How Gin's story had rung of truth, of ostracism and distrust for no true reason at all. For something beyond his control.

He considered Urahara and Yoruichi and all the people from the shop. The geta-boushi was a pervert and a bit of an eccentric weirdo, but that didn't mean he deserved exile or death. And the kids, Ururu and Jinta, what would have happened to them? Soul Society would've probably eliminated them just to tie up loose ends.

He thought of his own fate, to be used and cast aside. How his family was going to be threatened at some point, of losing Yuzu and Karin because of Seireitei's irrational fear. And yes, he even thought of losing Isshin. Although the man was an insane idiot, he was still Ichigo's father, the only parent he had left.

Ichigo remembered all those things, all the reasons he had come to Hueco Mundo in the first place. And then, he reached for the outfit.

He had already taken this step before he even set foot in Las Noches. One change of clothing wasn't going to alter that at all.

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a/n: Thanks for reading! I'd just like to make the comment that this entire series is AU after Chapter 295 but I will try to keep character backgrounds as close to canon as I can (that means as close to the negative chapters that are coming out). I will try to warn for spoilers.

Check out my profile for information on new series!

With that said, I look forward to your comments!


	3. Bound By Nothing

**Title: Bound by Nothing**

**Characters: Aizen, Ichigo, Ulquiorra, Gin**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Language**

**Words: 3121**

**Description: The true history of Soul Society in all its horrifying glory.**

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He was in the library when Ulquiorra found him, a place that he often disappeared to when looking for some time to himself. He was still reeling from the sudden change in his life, the switch between sides, abandoning Soul Society. Ichigo had yet to really think further than that.

Still, Ichigo found solace in the library when he wasn't spending time with Gin. Strangely enough, the lithe man was a rather agreeable companion, easy to talk to and knowledgeable on all matter of things. More often than not, Nel joined the two of them, and it was easy for Ichigo to forget, in those instances, just why he had come to Las Noches in the first place.

"Kurosaki-san."

Placing the book he had been debating over back on the shelf, Ichigo turned to find the emerald-eyed Arrancar just behind him. Appearing out of fucking nowhere like most of the residents of Las Noches seemed capable of doing. He arched one brow, knowing that Ulquiorra wouldn't have deigned to speak with him if it weren't for something important.

"Yeah?"

The Espada didn't even blink, which was rather creepy. "Aizen-sama requests your presence."

To be honest, a part of Ichigo had been waiting for this. He still needed answers, and he was certain there was something Aizen wanted from him. After all, he wasn't that weak; he would be of use in the war. He wanted to believe that Aizen was different from the Shinigami, but he also wasn't willing to trust easily anymore. Soul Society had torn that ability from him.

Turning away from the bookshelf, Ichigo simply nodded. Ulquiorra whirled sharply on his heels, a silent command to follow. Ichigo was grateful since he was absolutely certain he wouldn't have been able to find Aizen in the maze of Las Noches. The compound was huge with many wings that were of no use to him. Like the research center, for instance.

He kept his gratitude to himself, however, and any further comments. Ulquiorra was not one for conversation, so Ichigo followed in silence, half-wondering what Aizen would say, what Aizen would demand of him. He was already planning what lines he would draw, what questions of his own he would ask.

The Espada didn't take him to one of Aizen's many meeting halls or the throne room or even the room they had met in when Ichigo arrived. In fact, the area they entered was one that Ichigo rarely ventured. He wouldn't have ever been able to find it on his own; that was certain.

The door opened, Ulquiorra pushing it inwards and gesturing him inside. Ichigo watched the Arrancar warily but went in anyway. The door closed behind him, and he heard the faint steps of Ulquiorra walking away to do whatever he did when he wasn't dispassionately staring at everyone with evident disdain. Or serving his dear Aizen-sama. Whichever came first.

Yeah, Ichigo was still a bit bitter with Ulquiorra. If not for Inoue, he would have a few scars to show reasons why.

He had been shown to what appeared to a balcony, overlooking the massive pale desert of Hueco Mundo, the expansive black sky stretching out above them. The moon was a pallid crescent in the distance, and in front of him, there was a throne, currently empty. Aizen stood just beyond it at the railing, turning only when he heard the sound of the door click shut.

"Ichigo-kun," Aizen greeted in that same tone that often reminded Ichigo of Urahara-san. Half-placating and half-devious.

Ichigo remained where he stood. "You wanted to talk to me?"

The master of Hueco Mundo simply beckoned with one hand, a quiet request for Ichigo to join him. No harm or demand seemed imminent. Ichigo crossed the balcony, standing at the railing beside the former captain.

"It has been one week since you arrived here, yes?" Aizen asked him, as if he were suddenly unable to recall how long it had been.

Ichigo suspected that he was being led into something. "That sounds about right."

"And what do you plan to do next?"

The teenager frowned. "Do?" he repeated.

Ichigo truly hadn't thought that far. He hadn't known if he would have the choice.

It was a valid question.

"Yes. This is a war we are in, after all."

Ichigo shifted, eyes sliding to the side in thought. That it was a war had never left him. In fact, it had always stayed at the forefront of his thoughts. People he had once considered allies or friends would now be his enemies. Shinigami he had stood beside would now be his opponents. He hadn't liked the idea of that, but they had betrayed him first.

He had the feeling he would take some satisfaction out of beating up Hitsugaya. The teenager knew that if he saw the old man he would probably have no hesitation in attacking him. But there were others... he would waver. Even if only for an instant.

He wondered if he would be forced to kill, something he'd yet to do. It was easy for Ichigo to dismiss the destruction of a Hollow; they were being purified and sent to Soul Society, not truly killed. But a living person, another Shinigami, he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

However, he also wanted to fight. He wanted the chance to show Seireitei the mistake they had made in turning against him, in thinking they could use him. A part of him wanted to set fire to everything, which might have been the influence of Shirosaki's anger, a reflection of his own. There were many he was eager to take down, to make them feel his pain.

Ichigo firmed his lips. "Do you have someone you want me to fight or something?" he questioned, half-dreading the answer.

The former captain angled towards him. "No. You are not required to fight, if you do not wish to do so," he responded, stunning Ichigo entirely. "It is entirely your choice."

His choice. Something he hadn't expected to be given.

"I want to," Ichigo blurted out, a bit more fiercely than he intended but effectively getting his point across. "I want Soul Society to have to face me. I want them to _know._" He didn't explain what exactly, as one hand fisted at his side, but by the expression on Aizen's face, the older man understood.

"You're not a child, and I will not to treat you like one," Aizen responded after a moment. "But you are still young. Think carefully."

Ichigo fell silent, again conceding to the man's point. Somehow, Aizen had managed to see the inner debate without even trying.

Ichigo sighed, raking a hand through his hair in subtle defeat. "I want to fight, but..." He shook his head, grinding his teeth from sheer frustration. "I honestly don't know what to do."

"Understandable. You still don't truly understand the circumstances behind the conflict," Aizen inserted. "How can you choose to fight if you do not know what you are fighting for? Revenge is probably not the most suitable of reasons."

Ichigo nodded, remembering that he had been waiting for some sort of explanation. He thought it would come in time; Aizen had no real reason to trust him either. He hadn't expected the man to offer it so freely. He supposed he ought to stop comparing the two, Soul Society and Aizen. They had already shown themselves to be vastly different.

Beside him, Aizen shifted his gaze out towards the cold desert of Hueco Mundo. "There has not been a true king of Soul Society for thousands of years," he began. "Not even within the soutaichou's lifetime."

He frowned in confusion. "What do you mean by 'true' king?"

"The explanation is long and rather in depth, but suffice it to say, it is a position that must be earned, not given or taken."

Ichigo peered at Aizen, blinking. "Isn't that what you're doing? Taking?"

"That is what Soul Society _thinks_ I am doing," the man responded with a scoff that clearly showed his consideration for his opponent's intelligence.

"I don't get it."

Aizen laid one hand on the railing. "Being king is not solely the strength of one's reiatsu, though that does factor in. It also requires the world's acceptance, for lack of a better term."

Ichigo's head was starting to hurt. "The world?" he repeated, half-wondering if Aizen really was off his rocker.

The former captain lifted a brow. "You have a sentient sword. The world being much the same is that unbelievable to you?"

It made a vague sort of sense but too little for him to wrap his mind around. "Rukia never mentioned it," he countered, wondering why such a valuable piece of information had somehow been missed in her explanations.

"She likely doesn't know. It is not something taught at the Academy," Aizen explained softly. "Most of the nobles and Shinigami do not even realize. The knowledge of this is kept under lock and key, limited to very few."

"Why?"

Aizen frowned, his eyes taking on a hint of displeasure. "To preserve their own power," he answered, his tone slightly flat as though proving how little he thought of Soul Society's methods. "Were this truth to emerge, then the soutaichou, the four noble houses, and Chamber 46 would all lose their own power."

Ichigo absorbed this, a part of him uneasy with how much sense Aizen's words were actually making. "And how do you know?"

"I read. I looked. And I refused to blindly believe all that I had been taught."

A sudden realization struck Ichigo as he considered the information. "Then... anyone could be king?"

Aizen inclined his head. "Everyone has the potential, and indeed, potentially anyone could be deemed worthy. You can see why such knowledge is dangerous."

A scary vision of someone like Zaraki Kenpachi as the king of Soul Society suddenly invaded Ichigo's mind. There would be no escape from the man then. Ichigo would be forced to fight him for the rest of his life until someone stronger came along. The world would probably fall into complete chaos, though it would be _beautiful_. After all, even with Kenpachi as king, he would still let himself be ordered around by his flirtatious fifth-seat.

A cold shudder ran through Ichigo at the thought. "Kami help us if Kenpachi were to find out," he muttered under his breath, unconsciously glad that this was not common knowledge.

He was gifted with the uncommon sound of Aizen chuckling in amusement beside him. "Let us hope it does not come to that."

In total agreement, Ichigo barged right into his next question, the one that had really haunted him. "Okay, so you want to be king."

"To put it succinctly."

Ichigo fidgeted and then faced Aizen head on. "How are you going to do it?"

The elder male's lips twitched in an effort to restrain his amusement. "I'm not going to invade Seireitei and slash my way through, if that's what you think."

"No," Ichigo countered. "But I've been told you plan on destroying Karakura to make some key-thing," he responded, remembering vaguely what the old man had told Hitsugaya and Matsumoto when they were sharing Orihime's apartment.

Aizen shook his head. "Either a misdirection or a misunderstanding on their part," he replied with an ironic lilt to his voice. "A key does exist, but I might not require it. And if I do, I am currently working to obtain the existing one. What Soul Society did not tell you is the length of time needed to make such a key."

"Time?"

Aizen completely angled his body away from the railing to face Ichigo. "True, I would need a thousand souls to create the key, but it would also take greater than a hundred years to cultivate it. Not even I am perfectly content with taking that many lives, utterly destroying that many souls for such a trivial thing."

The teenager frowned, only to have this eyes suddenly widen in realization. "They already have a key," he stated flatly, dread coiling in his belly.

"Yes."

"They've done this before," Ichigo added, the stones falling into place with an astoundingly final thud that made something inside of him roll with nausea.

"And that is not the original key."

Ichigo ground his jaw, a righteous anger building. "How many of these fucking things have they made?" he demanded, his ire not directed towards Aizen but towards whomever thought it necessary to have these keys.

"At least three that I know of. But only the one is currently in existence," Aizen said quietly, voice very soft.

Disappointment and disgust filled Ichigo, enough that he had half a mind to stroll into Seireitei and scream for answers. To grab Yamamoto and shove him against the nearest wall, demand to know what the old fart had been thinking, how he could have _allowed_ something like this to happen.

Ichigo was even surer of his decision in that very moment. "You want to be king," he said after a moment. "I get that. But there's gotta be something else."

Aizen made a noncommittal sound in his throat before turning back towards his view, gesturing out at the desert. "What do you see out there?"

"Sand. And a tree." The boy paused and clarified. "A dead tree."

In short, what he saw was death and emptiness.

Aizen inclined his head. "Do you know what this place used to be?"

"Used to be?"

"Yes." A flurry of emotions briefly flickered across the lord's face too quick to discern. "This was another heaven. Another Soul Society, to be more precise."

Ichigo's jaw abruptly dropped, confusion beginning to war with the anger and revulsion that had been building. Everything he had ever thought about his new life as a Shinigami was being put into question. Everything that he had already _fought _for, what he risked his life against the Bounto to save.

"Once upon a time, there were no such things as Hollows," Aizen continued very softly. "And once upon a time, the Shinigami were nothing more than ferriers of spirits."

Ichigo fought to find some kind of rational words. "What the hell happened?"

"A war," Aizen answered simply. "The details are lost, but the consequences are still visible in every Hollow that you see. Whatever taint was laid here has spread to the living world, allowing soul chains to erode."

The boy shivered, remembering his own encounter with that very experience. It was a pain he never wanted to relive again and was still sore with Urahara for "forgetting" to mention.

"They somehow managed to prevent the spread to Soul Society but were unable to protect the living world," Aizen finished, hands tightening ever-so-subtly on the railing.

Ichigo mused, still failing to make the connection. "So what does it all mean?" he asked, eyes locked on the desolate and barren wasteland that had become the home to Hollows.

"I want to prevent this from happening again, to both Soul Society and the living world. From the Bounto to the Vizard to the contention with the Quincy, we are already on the brink of another war. One that would leave both realms in ruins. Perhaps others as well."

A part of Ichigo wasn't surprised. Based on treatment alone, there were many who wanted to strike back at Seireitei. He had recently joined that fold. Foolish decisions had been made. But regardless of Soul Society's misdeeds, the fact remained that its existence was necessary thanks to the prevalence of wayward souls and Hollows. It wasn't Soul Society that Ichigo wanted to topple, but the corrupt officials behind it.

Beside him, Aizen continued, voice spilling more and more facts. "The Hollows are growing in number larger than the Shinigami can defend," he explained and then faced his newest and youngest comrade. "There are six billion people in the living world, Ichigo. And only ten thousand Shinigami. They are outnumbered and overworked. At least, the ones who actually _do _work."

Ichigo digested this, exhaling quietly. "What do you expect from me then?"

"Nothing," Aizen replied much to Ichigo's surprise. "Nothing at all. It is enough to know that you are not fighting for my enemies."

He blinked. "I could just hang around here and do nothing?"

"If you so desire. Though your presence alone is rather entertaining." A slight smirk curved Aizen's lips for a moment as though hiding his humor. "I believe Gin finds you charming."

Ichigo gave him a skeptical look. "Charming?" he repeated dubiously. "I can't say I've ever heard that word in connection with me before."

Amusement glinted in brown eyes before Aizen shifted his attention, glancing over his shoulder. "I do believe we have a visitor, Ichigo-kun."

Blinking in surprise, Ichigo turned to find Gin in the doorway. He wondered how long the man had been standing there, popping out of the shadows like he seemed so fond of doing.

Seeming to realize he had been caught, Gin waved at the both of them. "Hiya!"

"Gin," Ichigo greeted, half-wondering why the older man had suddenly appeared. The other half was still absorbing all that he had learned.

It made him feel as if he were suddenly teetering on the edge of a very high precipice, the deepest abyss gleaming darkly beneath him. There was a path behind him and above him, an invisible bridge before him. But he wasn't sure if he could find it, and there was an army approaching from all sides. He would have to choose somewhere to take his stand or be pushed into the darkness.

Aizen stirred next to him, diverting Ichigo's attention. "If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me. Or Gin, if you prefer. He knows as much as I do."

Ichigo nodded, feeling like he had a million things to ask but no real questions.

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo smiled warmly. "Good. Then, I have other business I must attend to," he said, stepping away from Ichigo. "Excuse me."

Ichigo didn't respond, his eyes following Aizen's exit as Gin crossed the length of the balcony and approached him.

"Charming?" Ichigo repeated as his new friend drew nearer.

Gin grinned, a chuckle escaping him. "Aizen-taichou told you," he chirped, seemingly unbothered by his personal comments being relayed to the object of the compliment.

Ichigo scowled. "Who the hell is charming?" he teased distractedly, still musing on the information.

Thoughts were flitting around his head as if they were powered by shunpo, knocking one against another and threatening to make his temples ache. His forehead had even wrinkled substantially.

Gin avoided the question, his smile widening. "Ya know, Ichigo-kun, ya'll break yer brain if ya keep thinkin' that hard."

"It's not that easy to accept," Ichigo admitted quietly. "It's a lot to absorb."

"So maybe ya shouldn't think," Gin replied, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. "Maybe ya should just... relax an' _not_ absorb."

Ichigo was immediately wary. "Relax?" he repeated suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Gin smirked at the look on his face. "My, so wary, Ichigo-kun. I was just gonna suggest ya borrowin' my new Shounen Jump."

"What? You have it?"

The former captain nodded. "Yep!"

"Learn something new every day," Ichigo responded and rolled his shoulder. "Alright. Fine. Let's go."

"Hai!"

* * *

a/n: Sorry for the long, long mass speculation on my part. My co-writer and I had a long discussion and this is one of the few plot lines we came up with. The others will be stored for later fics (heh, heh). Hope it didn't come off too confusing.

Thanks for reading! There's plenty more to come!


	4. Hide and Seek

**Title: Hide and Seek**

**Characters: Gin, Ichigo, mentions of others**

**Rating: K+**

**Warning: None  
**

**Words: 428**

**Description: "Methinks someone hath a crush." Takes place at some point during this series. A sort of interlude to the main "plotty" bits.  
**

* * *

"What're ya doin'?"

A hint of embarrassment tinted Ichigo's cheeks as he sat up on the couch. "Hiding."

Gin made a point of turning around and looking at everything before he added, "In my room?"

Rubbing the back of his head as the blush fought a fine war on his face, Ichigo nodded. "It was the only place he wouldn't look, other than Tousen's room, and I wasn't going there."

"Who?"

There was an exaggerated sigh and then…

"That pink-haired guy," Ichigo nearly whispered and then looked around. As if by speaking about him, the eighth Espada would leap out of the white walls and scream "ah-ha!"

Gin tucked his hands into his sleeves, tilting his head to the side. "Sya-chan?"

"He keeps asking about Ishida!" Ichigo explained, throwing up his hands for emphasis. A noise of exaggeration fell from his lips. "He won't leave me alone."

The former captain's grin widened in amusement. "Methinks someone hath a crush."

Ichigo shook his head as a full body shudder ran through him. "It wouldn't surprise me." Then, seeming to remember where he was, he peered at Gin. "You don't... mind, do you?"

"Ichigo-kun's welcome in my room anytime," Gin chirped.

"Uh... thanks." He glanced around, realizing that Gin had probably returned to here for a reason. "Do you need me to leave or something?"

"Nope!"

Brown eyes shifted to the taller man, brow furrowing in a vague sort of realization. "Why? Were you looking for me or something?"

Gin's face split into a bigger grin. "O'course. Ya owe me a sparrin' match."

He had nearly forgotten about that. It was... what? Two weeks ago when Ichigo had been given that confusing tour? And had Gin known to look for him here or had he simply been returning to his room?

"How did you know I was here?"

Gin chuckled, coming closer to him. "I just thought of the last place Ichigo-kun would be. And then, I guessed since ya weren't with Grimm-chan."

"Good guess."

"Yep!"

Somehow, Ichigo had the sneaking suspicion that Gin had been searching for a little longer than he implied. Their growing friendship was not unknown to him.

He shifted on the couch. "So... a spar?"

Gin inclined his head, interest creeping into his tone. "I wanna see yer mask."

Rising from the couch, Ichigo reached for Zangetsu, who he had leaned on the nearby wall. In a moment, his zanpakutou was secured to his back.

"Okay. I'm game."

And just like that, Gin's smile became a touch more sincere.

* * *

a/n: This was just a little side piece to the main plotty bits. A piece of a scene that really didn't fit anywhere else but I still thought you guys might enjoy reading. Lemme know if you did!


	5. The Art of Losing

a/n: Do not be shocked by the het here! I give you fair warning. There is hetness here. Hetness lemony lime stuff. (Another reminder that this is rated M) If you don't want to read... umm, skip this chapter and I'll give you a little summary, just lemme know. It's part flashback and part current circumstances. In any case, enjoy!

**Title: The Art of Losing**

**Characters: Gin, Matsumoto, Ichigo, and others**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Het (OMFG??)**

**Words: 3,883**

**Description: '**_**Not like her at all**_**,'****Gin**** told himself. '**_**And it's that difference that I like**_**.'**

**Recommended Listening: "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers**

* * *

"Congratulations, Ichimaru-taichou."

"Welcome to the Gotei-13."

"Congratulations."

Their words were absolutely hollow, empty of any true meaning. They spoke them because polite society dictated they should. But Gin could tell, even without opening his eyes entirely, that they did not mean it. Perhaps Ukitake-taichou was sincere; the man seemed unable to be otherwise. But those still remaining, Gin knew better than to trust their empty words.

It was all part and parcel to the political game. The celebration for his ascension to captain was in full effect, but Gin didn't really feel like celebrating. Not when he was forced to listen to their insincere blather. Only Aizen-taichou was genuine, smiling as he congratulated his former subordinate.

Some didn't even bother to obey what was proper. Soifon shot him repeated dirty looks as she hovered on the edge of the crowd, on the lookout for trouble, even in the midst of a roomful of captains. Gin was certain that Komamura was glaring at him from beneath the helmet, and Tousen acted ignorant of his presence. Both Kurotsuchi and the eleventh division captain were noticeable in their absence.

Gin was there, but he might as well have been invisible.

It would have been unfair for him to blame it on Kuchiki Byakuya, he supposed. Even if the man hadn't been promoted at the same time as him, the others would have ignored him. It was no secret that Gin was disliked. He never let it bother him, however, assuming he would have to earn their respect.

But nothing had changed. Despite the fact that he, too, was now a captain.

It was unfair, though it pained him to put it in such a juvenile manner. He had worked far harder than Kuchiki-hime, had studied and pushed himself through the ranks. He'd had to test for his position. Kuchiki-hime had merely been given it, achieving the required recommendations with little difficulty.

The other new captain hadn't given him so much as a glance since the celebration began, his nose firmly thrust into the air as though considering Gin beneath his notice. Not unusual behavior for a noble and especially not a Kuchiki. Gin had the urge to take that damn scarf and wrap it around the man's neck. It was a passing impulse though, one borne entirely from frustration.

He easily pushed it aside.

Sensing that the rest of the evening was going to proceed in much the same manner, he standing off to the side as the others hovered around Kuchiki-hime, Gin was more than ready to leave early. And only Aizen-taichou seemed to sense his intentions, catching him just as he reached the door.

"Leaving already?" he asked, though his tone suggested that he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

Gin inclined his head slightly. "Yes, Aizen-taichou."

"Have a good time then," his former captain responded, knowing full well where Gin was heading next.

He had plans to meet with Rangiku. She wanted to celebrate with him after the informal gathering, promising both sake and his favorite snacks.

Nodding, Gin slipped from the room. No one even noticed his departure save Aizen-taichou. He hadn't honestly expected anyone to.

Folding his arms into the sleeves of his robes, Gin made quickly for his home. Luckily, it wasn't too far away, and he wasn't long under the starless night sky before he was stepping through his front door. He slipped off his waraji, his ears catching the familiar sounds of sake sloshing in a bottle and his dear friend's contented hum. Rangiku had started without him apparently.

Padding silently down the hall, Gin paused in the doorway of his living room and glanced in. Rangiku was sprawled out on his couch without a care in the world, sake jug tucked under one arm.

She looked up at his entrance and grinned. "So how was it?"

If it were anyone else, he would have considered lying. "Don't think they like me all that much," he replied without hesitation.

"Aww." Her lips pulled into a pout as her eyes shimmered with sympathy. "I still like you, Gin-chan."

He felt something warm inside of him at that. At least, someone did; she was about the only one.

Rangiku forced herself to sit up and patted the cushion beside her invitingly. "Come have a drink with me. Tell me about the captain's test."

He obeyed her suggestion, taking the empty seat and biting back the heavy sigh that threatened to follow. "What d'ya want ta know?"

She pulled sake cups from out of nowhere, handing one to him with a flourish. "Well, what did they do?" Rangiku asked, deftly filling his bowl with the clear alcohol. "What did they ask you?"

"Procedure and paperwork. I had ta show some kidoh spells. 'nd my shikai." He paused, taking a drink, which she immediately topped off. "'nd Yamamoto-soutaichou had ta see my bankai."

"Is that all?" She scoffed and then drank straight from the bottle, gulping it down better than a number of men he had seen. Wiping it from her mouth with a satisfied smack of her lips, she continued, "What about that Kuchiki guy? Did you get to see his test?"

Gin shook his head. "He didn't have ta do anythin'. He was recommended. I haven't even seen his shikai. Don' even know what it is."

"Well, that doesn't seem fair," Rangiku moped, stating his very same thoughts.

At least, they were on the same wavelength.

"Nope."

"You _are_ just a rat from Rukongai," she added with a faint sigh, shaking her head and readjusting her hair with her fingers. "He's the head of the Kuchiki clan."

That certainly made him feel better. He took a long drink of the sake, emptying the cup. It was full again before he finished lowering it from his lips.

"Thanks for pointin' that out ta me. I hadn't noticed."

Rangiku rolled her eyes. "You're still a taichou, Gin-chan," she insisted, sliding closer to him. "That's what matters."

"One whose fukutaichou doesn't like 'im either," Gin replied, thinking of the sharp-eyed man he had met earlier, who had never stopped staring the entire time he was introduced to his new division.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, humming under her breath. "He's a Shihouin, isn't he? Just another useless noble who didn't earn his post." Rangiku chugged more sake, the liquid sloshing in the gradually emptying jug. "Don't mind him."

"The rest of my subordinates act like they're scared o' me," Gin went on aloud, though he wasn't certain if he was venting or if he felt he needed to dredge up all the reasons his day had been absolutely shitty. "Like I creep 'em out or somethin'."

"It's that freaky-ass grin you always wear," Rangiku countered, nudging him with a shoulder. "I've told you over and over. Stop smiling so much. You know it scares the kiddies." Her words were chastising, but her voice remained soft and teasing.

He gave her a look, barely peeking from beneath his narrow eyes.

"And quit squinting! You'll make your face freeze that way." She inched closer, her body exuding a seemingly unnatural warmth that he could feel through the layers of his clothing.

Gin fell silent, his ranting finished. He was supposed to be proud of this day, something he had worked so hard to obtain. Instead, he felt as if he had been swindled out of the proper respect he was due. He lifted his sake cup again, the mid-quality drink interesting enough but not quite the taste he had been hoping for.

Next to him, Rangiku tried for cheer. "Don't be so glum," she insisted and then her voice dropped several levels, growing husky. "I know what will make you feel better."

"Are ya gonna to suffocate me with yer assets again?" Gin suggested with heavy sarcasm. "That be a hell of a way ta go. I can just see the headlines. 'Shortest captaincy ever. Death by breast.'" He paused, sucking in a breath with every intention to continue.

"No," Rangiku chided, shaking her head. "Something even better." She was practically pressed against him now, her pale blue eyes several shades brighter this close.

"Higher quality sake?"

Instead of responding, she kissed him. Right then and there. Her lips were soft against his, warm and full. He froze in surprise. Confusion even. It must have been an accident. She had drunkenly fallen onto his lips.

When he didn't immediately return her kiss, Rangiku pulled back, face unreadable. Gin blinked, turning towards her.

Her hand rose up, cupping his chin and turning his head towards her. "Silly. You're doing it wrong."

"Um."

Gin was speechless. It certainly wasn't the first time she had ever kissed him, though she had been thoroughly sloshed in all those other cases. He didn't think she was that far gone yet. It normally took at least three more jugs. And he was never depraved enough to take advantage of her. Besides, she never remembered in the morning anyway.

Rangiku didn't give him a chance. She kissed him again, harder this time, moving her lips against his as if demanding he respond. Her free hand began to wander, settling on his thigh as she leaned in towards him.

Honestly, his resolve was crumbling in the face of her aggressiveness. Was it that hard to believe she was his dear friend and he didn't want to lose her? It wasn't as if he had many to choose from when the occasion suited him.

She frowned, pulling back when his lack of response became annoyingly apparent. "Kiss back," Rangiku urged, a touch of hurt filtering into her usual light and flirtatious tone.

"Why?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. Gin hoped she didn't take it the wrong way. He supposed he should have been more coherent, but he was already faltering.

Her fingers slid up his thigh, her palm landing against his groin. He jumped in surprise, a muffled groan of want slipping free. Her fingers, deft and smooth, wrapped around a rapidly growing arousal.

"You don't want me?" Rangiku asked, blinking up at him with those damn eyes that were always his undoing.

Gin shook his head. "'S not it."

His resolve was faltering, though he clung to it. For some reason, he had this funny idea of wanting it to mean something between the two of them. Some kind of something that would last beyond just one night. Silly him for wanting to think like that.

Seeming to sense he was crumbling, Rangiku kissed him again. And well, Gin was only human. His mind completely blanked out, and of his own will, he stopped protesting. His lips suddenly remembered how to work, and he kissed her back, inviting her tongue to tangle with his.

Stressed, taut muscles melted as her hands wandered, stroking him and inviting it. He turned into this warm, floating mass of pleasure. It made him wonder if it was all a dream. Had he fallen and struck his head on the way home?

It was so surreal. Even when Rangiku pulled away, rising to her feet and taking his hand in hers. With a saucy wink, she led him to his bedroom. It was his home, but he wasn't certain he would have been able to find it on his own in his current state.

Normally, he kept his futon rolled up and shoved into the closet to give everything the appearance of being neat and tidy. But now, it was already laid out and waiting, blankets fully situated on top. In the far back of his muddled mind, he realized that she must have been planning this. The thought made him feel better, daring to believe that maybe she wanted it as much as he did. The smile on his face suddenly turned genuine.

Rangiku pushed him towards the bed, where he faintly stumbled. "Strip," she commanded. "If you don't, then I'll do it for you."

He blinked stupidly. His fogged brain couldn't comprehend the simple command. But she was already pulling off her own clothing, the pink scarf fluttering to the floor. Her pale obi quickly followed as her top gaped.

She gazed at him, voice turning coy. "Or maybe, that's what you want, hmm?"

Every synapse in his brain misfired, her clothing falling off as he stared. Until she stopped and crossed the distance between them. Deft hands removed his captain's haori in a manner of seconds, depositing it on the floor behind him with little regard to the hard work he'd put in to obtain it. Rangiku's lips pressed to his neck, her breath warm against his skin as she reached for his obi and tugged it off. It slithered to the floor, her hands gliding across his clothing, circling around his waist. A small noise of encouragement escaped him as her skilled fingers plucked fabric from where it had been carefully tucked.

It wasn't until she started pulling at his shihakushou that he finally emerged from his stupor, pale cheeks coloring brightly. He began to help remove his own clothing.

"Oh," Rangiku crooned, noticing immediately the stain to his complexion. "That's so cute." She rose on her toes, brushing her lips across his cheeks.

His blush deepened, though he would have preferred she didn't call him cute. Instead, Gin lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. She was startled by his participation but just as quickly responded, sliding her tongue into his mouth and encouraging him to taste her.

Rangiku beamed up at him. "Now, that's the spirit," she murmured, eagerly returning to his mouth.

His blush deepened at her words as her hands quickly and efficiently started to remove the rest of his garments. Her hands kept wandering, touching him everywhere, ghosting over his revealed skin. It was so much paler than hers, their bodies a direct contrast.

"Got somewhere ta be afterwards?" he asked as she jerked off his kimono and tossed it to the floor.

Rangiku didn't answer, her lips immediately capturing his and tangling their tongues. His mind goes white again. She tasted of sake and... cookies? A strange flavor, but it wasn't as if he actually minded.

Cool air washed over his skin as the last of his clothes fell to the floor, and he reached for hers, helping her step out of the last of it. Her breasts jiggled slightly as they escaped from the confines of her kosode, neatly entrancing him. His fingers longed to run over them, but his hands encircled her narrow waist instead, sliding up to the smooth skin of her back.

And then, she suddenly pushed him down to the futon. He landed hard enough to grunt, not expecting the abrupt movement. He looked up to see her smiling at him as she lowered herself into a straddle, like some prowling cat.

"Ran-chan..."

"Touch me, Gin," she purred, curling over him and kissing him again. Her mouth fell open beneath his, inviting him inside.

He couldn't help but obey. His hands roamed of their own accord, finding their own path. Gin's fingers traced the line of her back, the smoothness of her sides, though tentatively. He carefully cupped the weight of her breasts, thumbs sliding over her nipples, every move cautious and exploratory.

A part of him still thought it was a dream, that he was going to wake up with sticky sheets and an empty wish if he made so much as a wrong move. She was moving against him, warm and soft, her lips in constant motion. Pressing kisses on his throat and his collarbone, on his ear. Her breath hot and moist against his skin. Her hands never stopped moving, leaving him swimming in want and pleasure.

"Don't worry, Gin-chan," she breathed against his ear, voice easily seducing him. "I know what to do." Her lips moved to his mouth, taking his bottom lip and sucking.

Her slim hand slipped between their bodies and guided him into her with ease. He groaned at the first touch, and then, it was suddenly clenching and heat and slickness surrounding him. Gin's entire world blanked into hot-white, his hands settling on her hips with a grip he hoped wasn't too tight.

She moaned under her breath, and it was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Gin had a vague idea of what to do, knowing it involved thrusting and touching. Certainly, his body seemed to know the mechanics all on its own. And he had the touching part down, having always wondered what her breasts felt like. Thanks to the porn he kept finding in his office, he had more than a good idea.

He moved, though it was awkward and clumsy. And he was pretty sure she was laughing behind her eyes. But it didn't matter. It really didn't matter.

Together, they established a rhythm, and every noise she made only increased his arousal. She felt so good around him. Gin wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding to cup her head. He directed her lips back to his, wanting to kiss her again.

She seemed all too happy to oblige, one hand remaining pressed against the futon for balance as her knees dug into the blankets. She moved with skill, every roll of her hips fluid, taking him deeper.

He opened his eyes once, looked into hers, and wondered if he might have just been falling a bit in love with her. If he already was. But then, Rangiku was his only friend; maybe that was it. Or there was there deeper meaning he sought. Gin didn't really know.

It felt too good, too slick and warm. His body had a mind of its own, no sense for restraint, only desperately seeking his release.

He didn't last nearly as long as he had in his dreams, exploding inside of her with a muffled cry. His breath came in short pants, starbursts bursting behind his eyes as pleasure shuddered through him. His hips twitched and jerked. And he heard her make some muffled moan, but it was lost to his own floating.

Gin's long fingers relaxed in her hair, having tangled around the strawberry-blond locks. She felt warm and sweaty against him, her chest heaving and pressing on his. His body was lax, muscles eased.

He just wanted to bask in the moment.

In the same second that he reached for her, however, she pulled away from his hold, leaving his hand grasping for empty air. There was a faint grimace as he slipped from her, which was quickly replaced by a bright smile. Her fingers combed her long hair into some semblance of order.

"Gin-chan's a man now," she chirped, her eyes shining brightly.

Something inside of him abruptly iced over as if a winter frost had swept through, turning him brittle and cold. Words clenched in his throat as he watched her rise to her feet, assets bobbing energetically on her chest. Rangiku began a search for her clothes, pulling them on with no care to her nudity.

He squeezed out the question. "Where're ya goin'?"

Gin feared he already knew the answer.

"I'm meeting Shun-kun and the boys for drinks," she responded dismissively, flipping the long locks over her shoulder and grabbing for her hakama. "He's been waiting for me."

Gin sat up. Blinked. Words absolutely failed him. He had never been the most eloquent, but he couldn't even find the most simple of things to say.

"But--"

She padded across the floor, kneeling briefly and kissing him on the cheek as her hands deftly retied her obi. "Congratulations on your promotion," Rangiku murmured against his skin. "Have a nice night."

He could only watch with lips that refused to work as she hustled around his room, gathering up the last of her clothes. She left the room with a parting, albeit flirtatious wave. Rangiku never even seemed to notice the expression on his face.

Perhaps he had unconsciously guarded himself. Maybe his usual smile, frozen and plastered to his lips, was there. He didn't dare look in the mirror to check.

His ears picked up the sound of his front door closing. Left behind, his bedroom was absolutely empty, his clothes scattered in all directions.

Gin wondered if the feeling left inside of him was normal. The feeling of being used and more than just a bit empty. He was suddenly aware of his nudity and groped for the nearest article of clothing, his fingers encountering the freshly-pressed white of his haori.

That silly little idea of monogamy chose to laugh at him. It was foolish anyway. It hadn't meant anything to her.

Nothing at all.

Gin jerked awake from the dream that had been nothing but pure memory, finding himself gazing into concerned brown eyes. Mind muddled from the recollection, he vaguely remembered falling asleep in Ichigo-kun's room.

The younger man was leaning over him. "Gin?"

Ah, so it had been Ichigo-kun who had woken him. That explained the abrupt leap into alertness.

Gin blinked away the lingering emotions. "Ichigo-kun?"

The boy tilted his head to the side. "Are you alright? You seem upset?"

Gin shook his head. "Just rememberin'."

There was silence for a minute as Ichigo watched him, forehead drawing into pinched lines of worry. "You're not smiling."

"It's not somethin' ta smile about."

Frowning, Ichigo-kun drew back and gave him space. Gin took it as it was offered and sat up, leaving enough room on the couch for the boy to sit next to him.

"Want to talk about it?"

Gin sighed. There was only one person he had ever told, and that was Aizen-taichou. He debated whether or not Ichigo-kun could be trusted with this memory. It was still something raw and painful, a lingering recollection that reminded him his reason for leaving her so easily. This particular event had been the last thing that had tied him down in his guilt. After all, she had left him long before he ever had the chance to return the favor.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Ichigo-kun continued, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. "We'll still be friends even if you don't. The offer's there, if you ever want to take me up on it."

He was warmed by that, and it chased away the lingering chill inside his belly. "Thanks, Ichigo-kun. I'll keep tha' in mind."

Those brown eyes studied him searchingly. "I know something that will make you feel better."

The words, so similar to hers, made him unconsciously edge away. He didn't need a repeat of the past. Once was enough.

"Higher quality sake?"

"How the hell would I get a hold of that?" Ichigo demanded, face melting into that familiar scowl as he shook his head. "No. I was going to suggest that you help me with kidoh again and then laugh as I fail."

"Especially when ya set yerself on fire," Gin thought fit to point out, relief instantly washing through him.

Ichigo-kun rolled his eyes. "That was the one time."

Despite himself, Gin's smile returned.

'_Not like her at all_,' he told himself. '_And it's that difference that I like_.'

* * *

a/n: Yes, yes, yes, the het was absolutely necessary for Gin's character development and for understanding of Gin and Ichigo's relationship. I'm sorry you had to endure. lol. Lemme know if it's too graphic for and I'll edit through and remove what I can.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this little bit and I look forward to your comments! Thanks!


	6. Immoral Melody

**Title: Immoral Melody**

**Characters: Ichigo, Gin, Aizen, Urahara, Nel Tu, Ulquiorra**

**Rating: T**

Warning: Language

**Words: 2383**

**Description: Las Noches is invaded. Yet again.**

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Ichigo had set foot in Las Noches. He had adjusted rather quickly, all things considered, learning how to navigate his way around the complicated structure. He rarely ran into the Espada, except for Nel and occasionally Stark, and spent a good portion of his time in the library or the training arena.

And then, there was Gin. He and the former captain had somehow become fast friends, and before he knew it, it was hard to find one of them without the other. Which seemed fine. The man was smarter than those in Soul Society had given him credit. And he was easier to talk to than a lot of the Shinigami Ichigo had known.

Today was no exception.

"Urahara tried, but it was useless," Ichigo responded with a faint grimace, thinking of the multiple times he had made himself explode.

Walking next to him, Gin shook his head. "Ya've plenty of time now. No harm in tryin'." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Izuru-chan said I'm a great teacher."

Ichigo hedged, contemplating. The topic, of course, was kidoh and Ichigo's lack of ability. Gin had offered to help him learn a few spells, but Ichigo was hesitant. It wasn't that he lacked the power to properly use them, more that they were often _too_ strong for him to control. Not to mention the complicated wording and concentration involved often threw him for a loop, and then, something dangerous would spiral into destruction.

He was on the verge of conceding defeat. Grudgingly willing to admit that it might be in his best interest to learn, when the sound came echoing through the halls of Las Noches, diligently seeking him out.

"Itsygoooooo!"

He braced himself, knowing it was futile to resist.

Within seconds, he was being swamped by a green-haired Espada, childish eyes blinking up at him with excited innocence as Nel clung to his chest. Her fingers clutched onto the fabric of his clothing, and he automatically grabbed her under her arms to keep her from sliding back to the floor. It was a habit he had long learned to accept.

"Nel?"

She grinned toothily at him. "Aizen-thama's callin' yoooo! And Gin-chan!" she announced energetically before clambering up over his chest and perching on his shoulder like some sort of Hollow parrot.

Ichigo blinked, shifting to accommodate her weight as her right hand clutched onto his head for balance. He ignored Gin's snickers of amusement.

"Okay." Ichigo slid his gaze to his friend, suspecting that if anyone knew why, it would be Aizen's closest confidante. "What for?"

The former captain shrugged. "Dunno."

"Someone's broke in!" Nel proclaimed as though this sort of thing happened all the time.

Of course, it was entirely probable. Ichigo had just walked in, after all, even if he had been expected.

Gin lifted a brow. "Someone? Who?"

The little Arrancar shook her head, fingers tightening briefly in Ichigo's hair and causing him to wince. "I dunno. Ul-chan's gone ta meet 'im!"

Gin made a noncommittal sound in his throat before tipping his head. "Guess we better go then." He turned his gaze up towards Nel. "Where?"

"Da throne room!"

Ichigo reached up, patting Nel on the head. "Guess that's that. You coming?"

She grinned, nearly slobbering on his hair. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't. That stuff was fucking hard as hell to wash out.

And on they went.

* * *

"What's going on?" Ichigo asked as he stepped into the throne room, noticeably devoid of all the other Espada. Even Stark, the highest ranking.

Gin entered behind him as Nel bounced on his shoulder.

"I found Itsygo, Aizen-thama!" she announced, much to Gin's amusement, despite the fact that it was plainly obvious.

Aizen gave her a fatherly smile. "So I see," he responded before switching his gaze to Ichigo. "It appears we have an unexpected visitor."

An uncomfortable feeling settled in Ichigo's chest, having had the wonder before about something like this happening. "Are they after me?"

"Perhaps," Aizen conceded. "We shall have to see what he wants."

"He?" Gin repeated, his smile losing some of its wide edge.

His former captain merely returned with a enigmatic, small grin. Gin's question was never answered, the door behind them suddenly cracking open. All three, the two men and Nel, turned towards it.

They first caught sight of Ulquiorra, standing against the door and gesturing inwards with a pale hand. His emerald gaze flickered briefly towards Aizen as the visitor stepped inside before Ulquiorra left the throne room, closing the door carefully behind him.

Ichigo blinked in utter surprise. "Geta-boushi?" he exclaimed, managing to be both relieved and worried at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"Kurosaki-kun!" Urahara declared.

And then suddenly, Ichigo was swamped in a large, masculine hug, nearly crushed against Urahara's chest.

"I was worried about you," a voice breathed near his ear.

Nel hurriedly scrambled away and leapt to Gin's shoulder, taking up a new perch. Her eyes watched Ichigo with interest as she wisely kept her silence. The boy absolutely froze in surprise, unsure what do to. The only people who really hugged him were his sisters, though Isshin tried rather unsuccessfully. And the last adult who had hugged him like this was his mother.

He had every intention of extracting himself from the unprecedented display of affection, until he caught a glimpse of Urahara's expression beneath the hat. There was no hint of teasing on the man's face. He was genuinely glad to see Ichigo, genuinely relieved that the boy was doing well.

After that, there was no way he could pull apart. Ichigo lifted his hands and returned the gesture, allowing it to show his own relief. If Urahara was in Hueco Mundo, then perhaps everyone was okay.

A minute later, Urahara pulled back, shadowed eyes searching Ichigo's face as though looking for something important. Ichigo racked his brain for something to say. But he was saved from doing so when Aizen cleared his throat rather noisily.

"Kisuke," he said from above them, a touch of amusement in his voice. "What a surprise."

The geta-boushi looked _up _at Aizen, his usual mischievous grin stealing onto his face. "Why, Sou-kun, is that your way of saying that you missed me?" he asked slyly.

Aizen's lips twitched. "Only you would take it as such."

There was a chuckle as Urahara noticeably raked his gaze from the floor to the throne and repeating the motion twice more. "Compensating for something are we? How do you get up there?"

"I wondered the same damn thing," Ichigo muttered under his breath, inwardly wondering why Urahara would call Aizen something as familiar as "Sou-kun."

Beside him, Gin chuckled and shook his head, which a shadowed gaze did not fail to notice. Urahara's lips curled into a mischievous grin, an "oh-ho!" murmured under his breath.

"I see you have finally graced us with your presence," Aizen redirected, voice taking on its own form of teasing, which proceeded to shock Ichigo even further.

Urahara's fan snapped out of the mysterious fourth dimension he normally kept it, and he spoke behind the waving paper. "It was getting a mite _uncomfortable_ at the shop," he explained. "So we took a vacation, and of course, I couldn't entirely stop worrying about Kurosaki-kun here."

He took the opportunity to sling his free arm over Ichigo's shoulder, as though they were the best of buddies, grinning like a damn fool. His eyes slid briefly to Gin, thoroughly amused by the brief flash of jealously he saw in the younger man's expression.

Ichigo snorted. "A vacation?" he repeated doubtfully. "Is that all?"

"Of course not!" Urahara declared. "I also came bearing gifts!"

He was even more skeptical than before. "Gifts?"

The shop owner grinned, snapping his fan shut and digging into an inner pocket. He immediately produced a handful of envelopes, all of which he handed over to Ichigo with a flourish.

"What's this?" the boy asked, taking them and glancing over the fronts. They were all addressed to him from various people.

"Letters! From your family and friends," Urahara helpfully informed him.

Ichigo thumbed through the envelopes. "I can see that," he growled, mentally taking stock of who had written him. "Thanks," he added absentmindedly.

One from his sisters. Something like a letter from his dad. One each from Yoruichi, Kon, and Hanatarou. And then, it looked like Orihime sent him one, but it was in Ishida's handwriting. Which meant the sew-happy bastard must have "translated" Orihime-babble into something Ichigo could understand.

Urahara grinned as though amused by Ichigo's annoyed response. "I brought news as well. From Soul Society."

"Oh?" Aizen's interested tone filtered down from his throne. "Do share, Kisuke."

He was ignored as the geta-boushi turned to look at Ichigo instead, lifting an appraising brow at his choice of clothing. "The change in attire suits you," he remarked, arm still around the boy's shoulders.

Ichigo shifted awkwardly, one hand pulling unconsciously at a slim sleeve. "I guess. Why'd you come here? I thought you were leaving with Yoruichi-san and the others."

"I was," he replied brightly. "But then, I decided to come here. I missed you, and I knew Sousuke would need me if he wanted to win."

Aizen barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "The news, Kisuke," he reminded with a hint of exasperation. "What is Soul Society doing?"

The teasing glint all but disappeared as Urahara registered the request but kept his attention on Ichigo. "They're looking for you, Kurosaki-kun," he explained, much to Ichigo's concern. "Don't be surprised if they show up in Hueco Mundo."

"I believe Gin and Ichigo-kun are already working on that," Aizen inserted before addressing Ichigo. "And as long as you are in the walls of Las Noches, they will not be able to sense you."

"Well, it's not like I wanted to leave or anything," the teenager responded with a faint shrug, half his interest on the letters in his hands.

Nel giggled at that as Gin smiled.

"Ah, Ichigo-kun likes us," he chirped.

A hearty blush stained Ichigo's cheeks. Something the geta-boushi did not fail to notice since he was already standing so close to his student.

Urahara smirked, finally deigning to turn his attention back to Aizen. "They've not taken Kurosaki-kun's disappearance well. His friends are quite worried."

"Friends?" Ichigo sniffed. He had told everyone who mattered what he was doing.

"Abarai-fukutaichou and Kuchiki-san are quite worried," Urahara corrected. "They have no idea what's been happening."

Ichigo frowned. If Rukia and Renji knew nothing then he couldn't claim that they had betrayed him. Was it possible that only a few knew of Yamamoto's plans? It made sense that the old geezer would want to keep it to himself.

"And the soutaichou?" Aizen pressed. "How is he reacting?"

The fan snapped back open. "As if he knows nothing at all," Urahara said in a somewhat flippant tone that failed to hide his disgust. "But he suspects that Ukitake and Shunsui are coming to a realization. He may face a mutiny in the future. In fact, he fears it. Especially since the both of them remain so fond of both you and Kurosaki-kun," he added with a pointed glance from Aizen to his student.

Aizen frowned, gesturing faintly with his fingers. "And the others?"

"Unsure," the shop owner replied with a shrug. "They do not know if Kurosaki-kun's absence is due to some new enemy. Perhaps the Vizard. Or even you."

"Well, he is here." Aizen smirked. "But of his own choice. Correct, Ichigo-kun?"

Ichigo snorted, folding his arms over his chest after safely tucking away his letters to be read later. "They probably think you murdered me or something. What about the shop, Urahara-san?"

The smile that took over the geta-boushi's face was nothing less than mischievous. "It's not there. We took it with us."

Ichigo blinked. "What? You just left an empty lot behind?"

"Of course!" Urahara beamed, waving his fan in front of his face. "As if I would leave my precious shouten for Soul Society to pillage."

Ichigo sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "I should have known."

"Is that it then?" Aizen asked, drawing the attention back to the important parts of the conversation.

The fan snapped shut and then promptly vanished into some invisible pocket. "You know how it works. Nothing truly major has happened, so they are still slow to react."

"I see."

A moment of silence swept through the throne room as those within fell quiet, absorbing Urahara's sudden appearance and revelatory words. Gin looked between his former captain and the geta-boushi, sudden understanding dawning.

"Well, we still need ta practice, don't we, Ichigo-kun?" he suddenly announced.

Ichigo blinked. "What?"

But Gin already had him around the arm and was pulling him towards the exit, Nel giving an excited yell at getting to spend time around her two favorites.

"What about Urahara-san?" Ichigo protested loudly.

"Oh, I think I'm going to stay here," the geta-boushi chimed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Catch up and all that with Sou-kun. Have fun, Kurosaki-kun. We'll meet up later."

Gin's grin widened as he refused to let go of Ichigo. "Exactly," he chirped. "No need ta break our momentum."

Ichigo groaned at the thought.

"Yer getting' better," Gin assured him.

"Not fast enough for my pride," Ichigo retorted, his face and tone dangerously nearing a sulk.

The door slammed shut behind them as the last of Urahara's comments filtered to their ears. "Ne, Sou-kun. Have a thing for attractive followers do you?"

Ichigo craned his neck to look behind them at the closed door, confusion warring in his expression. "What was that about?"

"Didn't ya know?" Gin asked, finally deigning to release his captive.

The younger Vizard stumbled a bit and turned around, regaining his balance only to have it questioned as Nel leapt back to her perch. "Know what?"

"Aizen-taichou and Urahara-taichou used to be special friends."

The angry lines of confusion furrowed Ichigo's forehead. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Does it matter?" Gin chimed merrily and dismissively. "More importantly, we should get started on kidoh."

Nel cheered. "I can help!" she declared.

Ichigo groaned again.

* * *

a/n: I was going to give you guys another short little bit but I decided to post this instead. I hope you enjoyed! It's more plot for your minds! I'm looking forward to your comments and am definitely glad that everyone seems to be enjoying this so much!


	7. Intermezzo

**Title: Intermezzo**

**Characters: Aizen, Urahara, brief mentions of others**

**Rating: K+**

**Warning: None**

**Words: 1,035**

**Description: A reunion between old friends. A brief interlude in the plot. Takes place directly after _Immoral Melody._  
**

* * *

They waited until the sounds of Gin and Ichigo's conversation had faded from their ears, reiatsu vanishing deeper into Las Noches before their own talk became serious. Urahara's voice lost all but a thin edge of teasing, and Aizen's face took on a solemn expression.

"So they are coming for him," the lord of Hueco Mundo stated, lips pulling into a thoughtful frown.

Urahara unconsciously tugged on the rim of his hat. "You knew they would."

"Yes."

Shadowed eyes peered at the man on the throne searchingly. "Yet, you still took him under your protection."

Aizen gestured vaguely with one hand. "Soul Society is foolish. I am not."

"Too true." A hint of fondness crept into Urahara's tone as he fell into the memories of the good, old days, a long century ago. "It's been a while, Sousuke."

"Too long, I should think, my friend," Aizen responded, only to pause and slide down from his throne, landing silently in front of the blond. "Have you come to join me then?"

Kisuke's lips twitched into a teasing grin. "If I did not, you would lose this war," he retorted, dropping his hand from his hat. "And I won't fight against Ichigo."

"I expected as much," Sousuke admitted, walking towards a door opposite than the one Gin and Ichigo had taken. "Especially when he came to me of his own volition. I knew they would make that mistake."

Urahara fell into line beside him, that infernal zanpakutou making an occasional tap against the floor. "Your sense of foresight has not changed. Why, if not for you, I might have found myself in Ichigo's place all those years ago."

"Then, you owe me something," Sousuke suggested, pushing open the door for his friend to precede him into the hall.

Kisuke whirled on his feet, turning to face his companion and walking backwards. "Perhaps," he conceded as the door swung shut behind Sousuke. "But I won't bow to you."

Fingers slid deftly through artfully styled hair. "I fear for my health should I try to make you."

"A wise decision, my friend," the exiled Shinigami responded with a laugh and then pointedly looked around. "So when do I get a snazzy new outfit?"

Sousuke smirked, heading to the left. "Impressed you, has it?"

The clack-clack of Kisuke's geta soon joined his silent steps, and Aizen inwardly remarked he would have to get the man some waraji soon. The noise was rather startling in his pristine halls, though it was all part of Kisuke's charm that he caused chaos in whatever he did.

"Your sense of style never ceases to amaze me," Kisuke drawled. "What with those clunky glasses and that hideous brown haori."

"The glasses were a necessity since I could not see without them," Sousuke reminded him, only mildly offended. "Luckily, there is this wonderful invention in the living world."

Kisuke snickered. "The lord and master of Hueco Mundo wears contacts," he teased, rolling his eyes.

"As I said, a necessity," Aizen conceded. "And as for the haori..." He paused, face twisting with distaste. "Ukitake is to blame for that. I couldn't, in good conscience, return the gift."

Kisuke nearly coughed, trying to hold back his laughter. Their friend indeed had horrible taste sometimes.

"That was his second attempt," Sousuke thought fit to add. "The first was even worse."

"I am nearly afraid to find out." Urahara winced.

Sousuke inclined his head. "You really don't want to know. Besides, you're not one to talk either."

He reached up, deftly knocking Kisuke's atrocious hat from his head. The shop owner reacted quickly enough to catch it before it hit the ground. The two of them never broke their wandering stride.

Kisuke pretend-dusted off the green and white striped accessory with a fake pout. "How juvenile, oh future king of Soul Society," he chided teasingly. "What would your subordinates say if they could see you now?"

"I daresay Gin would not be surprised. Nor Stark."

The hat jauntily returned to Urahara's head. "And the pretty one?" he asked nonchalantly, though it was clear he was mocking his dear friend. "I suspect he's your favorite."

Sousuke tilted his head, raising one shaking finger. "Ah, but a father never has favorites."

"So you may say, Sousuke," he retorted in fake disappointment. "You know very well that Gin-chan is your favorite. Though Ichigo seems to be worming his way into your good graces." He peered searchingly at the other man.

A smile snuck onto Aizen's face. "Perhaps. And the same would be true of you."

"Of course," Kisuke countered with an indignant huff. "I've known him since the day he was born. I used to babysit him when he was just a chubby baby. He just doesn't remember his Hara-oji-san."

Sousuke snorted. "Isshin must be truly insane to trust you with his child. As if he wasn't mad enough already." There was a pause, his voice turning speculative. "Do you think he will follow you?"

Kisuke shook his head, purposefully striking Benihime loudly against the floor just to irritate his good friend. "His primary concern right now is protecting his daughters. They are too young to be left alone, and he trusts Ichigo to be fine on his own."

"I see."

"Besides, he has never had even half as much ambition as you. Or even me." Kisuke's lips curled into a smirk as he looked at his companion from the corner of his shadowed eyes. "After all, who wouldn't want to serve at the left hand of god?"

Sousuke raised one brow. "Oh? Usurping Kaname's position, are we?"

Urahara scoffed. "Kana-chan never had that position. It's always belonged to me," he declared knowingly but then paused, reconsidering. "I would have had to fight Ichigo perhaps, but I think he's set his sights elsewhere. The stubborn boy hasn't even realized it yet."

"I do believe he has," Aizen responded with a hum of understanding. "It is more than mutual, but I believe they may need a little nudge."

"Ichigo is stubborn," Kisuke agreed with a chuckle, a devious snigger that didn't bode well for Ichigo. "Just leave it to me."

Sousuke tipped his head, conceding. "If you insist."

* * *

a/n: -fangirly sigh- I just love writing these two. There's something about their witty banter that is so appealing.

In any case, if you enjoyed this piece, let me know! I'm writing some more side pieces now, and will probably post them in a chunk, but for now, it's plot! nods Not that you mind, right?

Keep on the lookout for more! This piece has me by a stranglehold so I've been writing like crazy. Thanks!


	8. Voices Silently Sing

**Title: Voices Silently Sing**

**Characters: Urahara, Ichigo**

**Rating: T (for Ichigo's potty mouth)**

**Warning: Language**

**Words: 1587**

**Description: Ichigo spends some quality time with his mentor. Lucky him.**

* * *

Ichigo was lying on his bed, arms folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling when the geta-boushi so calmly walked into his room without so much as a knock. The boy gave his sensei a cursory glance, irritation creeping into his expression.

"Why are you here?" he demanded, only to give a double-take.

The man had switched into appropriate attire for dwelling in Hueco Mundo. It was a style similar to Aizen's, much like the Shinigami black shihakushou with the white robe over it. It was a bit more billowy at the bottom than Aizen's, however, and lacked the distinctive collar. The sash was a deep green, suitable for Urahara. The only thing that ruined it was--

"You still have that retarded hat," Ichigo scoffed, rolling his eyes and returning to his contemplation of the ceiling. He had things on his mind, after all, and wasn't in the mood to listen to Urahara blather.

"I'll have you know this was a gift," the man retorted, not the least bit offended. "From a very beautiful lady with questionable taste in men."

Ichigo blinked. "What?"

He wondered if he ignored the perverted shopkeeper long enough, the man would leave him alone. And then, he worried that this one visit meant he should expect more unannounced visits in the future.

"Oh yes," the older man continued, nodding as though he were confirming some great fact. "She married my best friend."

This was news to Ichigo. "Yoruichi-san's married?"

"My other, other best friend, besides Yoruichi and Sou-kun," Urahara corrected with infinite patience, shadowed eyes watching his young student.

The Vizard drew a complete blank. "Do I know this person?"

"You do," he responded with a hint of an amused grin. "Though oftentimes, you'd rather you did not."

Ichigo quickly dropped the subject; he sincerely didn't want to know. "You still haven't said why you're here," he reminded the older man, though why he was encouraging Urahara to stay was beyond him.

"I just wanted to talk with you, Ichigo."

The sound of his given name was a telling sign. Ichigo sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge. Urahara only dropped the pleasantries when he was serious, something that was not meant to be taken teasingly. He gave the man his full attention as Urahara plopped down next to him.

Some concern filtered through Ichigo's mind. "Goat-Face isn't dead, is he?" he worried out loud.

Urahara chuckled lightly. "No. I don't think anything can kill that bastard."

"Then don't say shit like that," Ichigo muttered with a scowl. "People jump to the wrong conclusions."

"My apologies." He didn't sound the least bit contrite, the bastard. "But I do want to talk to you."

The wariness instantly returned. "About what?"

He imagined all sorts of bad news. Soul Society had decided to host another execution. Shirosaki wasn't as under his control as he believed. Someone he cared about was suffering from a deadly disease that couldn't be cured by any natural means. His mind was practically spinning with all the terrible possibilities.

"Are you happy here?"

Ichigo blinked, completely thrown by what seemed to be an entirely random question. He glanced at Urahara, finding that the man's face was completely sober. The geta-boushi meant the casual query.

"Um."

"Because you seem happy," Urahara added.

The boy fell silent, honestly considering the question. "I miss my friends and my sisters," he admitted quietly, unashamed to do so. Urahara could be a strange and perverted idiot, but he was still a man Ichigo relied on. "And I do wonder about Rukia and Renji."

"You don't have to worry. They'll be fine," Urahara soothed, voice holding nothing but confidence. "Even the last two. Kuchiki-hime didn't go through all that trouble just to let them both die now."

Ichigo snorted. "I know that much. And Chad and the others said so in their letters. But I'm still allowed to worry."

"Of course. I wouldn't expect any less." Urahara paused and peered at him again, as if he could see right through Ichigo's body and into the depths of his heart. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"It's a shitty question," Ichigo retorted on instinct, but thought about it anyway. He supposed he owed the geta-boushi a real response since he was taking pains to be all serious for once.

"I suppose I am," he grudgingly admitted. "It's nice not to worry about being attacked or fightin' off Hollows or Kenpachi. I don't even have to worry about Goat-Face displays of love." Ichigo winced, clearly remembering several injuries resulting from his father's affection. "And luckily, Grimmjow's still avoiding me. Heh. Bastard." But it was said almost fondly.

Urahara watched him as he talked, obviously waiting for something to be mentioned that had yet to work its way into Ichigo's confession.

"The food's okay. There's plenty of books. And Aizen's actually a decent guy. We have tea all the time and talk about stuff." Ichigo shook his head disbelievingly. "He's more parental than Goat-Face. Not hard to accomplish really."

"And what about Gin-chan?" the shopkeeper queried, sounding too harmless to really be innocent. "Is he being good to you?"

"What about him?" Ichigo demanded, his tone a bit more defensive than he meant. "He's my friend. That's all there is. He likes the same stuff I do, and he's never called me a moron."

"Is that all?"

Ichigo shot him a suspicious glance. "Just come out and say it, geta-boushi."

"Ah, young ones," Urahara sighed dramatically. "As subtle as a Menos attack."

Predictably, Ichigo scowled. It didn't keep his companion from pressing on, continuing his insinuations.

"Quite frankly, Kurosaki-kun. I do believe Gin-chan has a crush on you."

"Wh-what?" the boy sputtered. "He... I... He does not!"

"Sousuke and I believe he does," Urahara countered with an amused hum, as though he derived his entertainment from this conversation alone.

The blush staining Ichigo's cheeks was such a charming bonus.

It spread across the bridge of his nose first and then brightened his cheeks until he blurted, "Aizen, too? You don't have anything better to do than gossip about us?"

"Of course!" the older man announced in his most knowledgeable tone. All that he lacked was the waving fan. "You and Gin are rather important to us."

He flushed to the roots of his orange hair, a startling contrast. "So you think you need to discuss my love life?" Ichigo demanded in irritation, only to quickly backpedal when he realized what he had said. "Not that there is one or anything."

Urahara arched one brow. "And that blush tells me everything."

"Yeah? Like what?" Ichigo ground out, half-fearing the answer.

"That. You. Like. Him. Too." Each word was punctuated by a bop to the nose by that damned fan, which he had pulled out of thin air, much to Ichigo's displeasure.

The Vizard blinked and then scowled, abruptly batting away the offending fan. "I..."

The blush deepened, if that were at all possible. Only that much the cuter for the indignant scowl.

"You know, you could tell him."

"There's nothing to tell!" Ichigo all but shouted, on the verge of flailing in pure outrage.

Urahara scoffed. "Oh, come on. Even Kuchiki-hime could figure out this one. Do I need to draw you a diagram?"

"What's Byakuya got to do with this?" Ichigo shrilly questioned, privately swearing that his voice had not just reached such a high pitch.

"Nothing other than the fact he's the most oblivious man in the entire world," the shopkeeper countered, rolling his eyes. "Though you might give him a run for his money. Kami, help us if you two ever got together. It might have taken several decades for someone to say something. You never would have noticed on your own."

Ichigo really did flail, nearly knocking the geta-boushi off the bed. "But I don't like Byakuya!" he declared out of sheer exasperation.

"I know." Urahara was smug. "Because you like Gin-chan."

The purpling of Ichigo's face really was all that amusing.

"Argh!" he cried, reiatsu giving a fierce rattle of the walls. "Fine!" he conceded rather violently. "Alright! Fine! Maybe!" Ichigo managed to both yell and stutter. "I do. Possibly. Like him a little. Okay? _Okay?_"

Urahara's lips widened into a self-satisfied smirk. "Not possibly. You do like him. A lot."

Thoroughly outed, Ichigo practically panted and squared his jaw. "So what of it?" he ground out. "And when did you become my matchmaker?"

"I want you to give it a shot."

Ichigo nearly choked on the next breath. "What? Why?"

Shadowed eyes stared at him. "Because I want you to be happy," he said simply and softly. "And this will do it."

Frustrated, embarrassed and more than a bit confused, Ichigo peered at his mentor. "You're acting fucking weird."

Urahara sighed with rolled eyes and rose to his feet. "Perhaps," he hummed to himself, snapping his fan with a sharp twist of his wrist. He then promptly rapped Ichigo on the head with it. "Now don't forget. Tell Gin-chan."

The Vizard glowered, swiping futilely for the fan again.

His mentor simply chuckled and disappeared out the door in much the same fashion he had arrived. With no warning whatever, leaving his student to stew on sudden revelations.

Damn cryptic bastard.

--

a/n: I was channeling Watanuki when I wrote this for some reason (all you xxx-HoLic fans will know what I'm talking about). This chapter makes me laugh everytime I read it.

Anyways, here was more plot for you guys. Again. I held off on the happy, side bits. I'll probably leave those for a couple of weeks.

In any case, lemme know if you liked it! There's more to come and thanks everyone, for all the reviews and favorites and alerts. I'm so happy to know that people are enjoying this! Even if the newest chapters of Bleach are contradicting half of everything I've written. (Hell, Kubo's contradicting himself half the time, lol)

Thanks!


	9. Breathe Slowly

**Title: Breathe Slowly**

**Pairings: Gin/Ichigo**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Boys kissing other boys, Language**

**Words: 1,942**

**Description: ****But Ichigo wasn't like Rangiku, not like her at all. He had to remind himself of this over and over.**

* * *

A burst of reiatsu burned through his body and out through his fingers. It sizzled and crackled, soaring through the air only to veer off course and suddenly strike the wall far to the left of where he had originally aimed. Luckily, it fizzed out before it even landed, leaving a faint impression and nothing else.

Ichigo scowled and glared at the offending target on the other side of the room. It had to have been moving. His shoulder twitched, as it did every time he tried the simple _byakurai_ kidoh. A subtle reminder of what Byakuya had used on him he supposed.

This was a lot fucking harder than it looked, no matter what anyone claimed about supposed power levels and incantations. And when the target failed to topple over by the force of his glower, Ichigo conceded defeat. He sucked at kidoh.

"I'm worse than Renji at this," he muttered under his breath, dropping his hands back to his sides. "And I'm not worse than him at anything."

Next to him, Gin remained unperturbed. "Well, Abarai-kun has had many decades to practice," he reminded his hotheaded friend. "And he only had passing marks because Izuru helped him."

Ichigo sighed, brushing a hand over his sweaty hair. "Maybe I need Kira to help me, too."

"Aww," Gin teasingly pouted. "Am I not good enough fer ya, Ichigo-kun?"

A blush stained Ichigo's cheeks before he could stop it. "It's fine," he mumbled, ignoring the wash of heat to his face. "I'm just an idiot. I'm not a good student."

The former captain chuckled. "Yer the best, Ichi-chan. Never heard of nobody progressin' through the Shinigami arts this fast before. Ya beat even Shirou-chan's record, and he's supposed ta be a genius."

Inwardly, Ichigo smirked. Wouldn't Hitsugaya have loved to hear that? Right before Ichigo beat the crap out of him for daring to even think of harming Inoue.

That compliment bolstered him just a little, and Ichigo decided to try again. He furrowed his brow, focused on the target, and raised his hands. His mind ran over the incantation as he concentrated on the spell. Willing it to his fingers. Willing it to _work_, goddammit! Willing it to fucking hit the fucking target.

"Try a different spell," Gin suggested gently. "Binding, perhaps."

Ichigo groaned, idly cracking his neck. "Can't I just hack at it with my sword?" he asked, gesturing towards the target and telling himself he was absolutely _not_ whining. "By the time I actually manage to successfully fire one of these stupid things, the damned Hollow would've already killed me. I have a perfectly good zanpakutou right here."

Amused, Gin still shook his head. "Ya won't be fightin' Hollows, Ichigo-kun. Remember tha'. And all the Shinigami know yer weakness is kidoh. Best ta be prepared, ne?"

Knowing the older man was right, Ichigo grudgingly conceded. "Fine," he surrendered and tiredly glanced at the target again, throwing the first binding spell he could think of. "_Sai_!"

The kidoh shot through the air with odd accuracy. And suddenly, the dummy keeled over, hands locked behind its back as it crashed to the floor.

Ichigo openly gaped, blinking in astonishment. "It... it worked."

"Ya learned the trick to it!"

"I didn't do anything," Ichigo protested, trying to ignore the warming in his cheeks. Urahara's words rang in his head, reminding him that they had been plaguing his attention for a good week now. "I wasn't even thinking about it!"

Gin grinned at him, rather goofily almost, as pride echoed in his tone. "That's the point. As powerful as ya are, ya don't even need the incantation, much less concentration." The smile turned mischievous. "Now, we can practice on Arrancar."

Ichigo shook his head, looking at the floor. "It might be a bit too early for that," he said and then changed subjects. "But lemme try that _byakurai _one again. I think I can get it this time."

"So ya can use it on Kuchiki-hime?"

He snorted. "Payback's a bitch," he countered, leaving off the fact that Gin was right.

Ichigo looked at the target, raising his arms to try and aim. The words banked on his tongue. And just as he was about to begin the incantation, Gin interrupted him, causing the spell to fizzle before it even started.

"Wait," the former captain inserted, head tilted thoughtfully. "That ain't gonna hit."

He glanced over his shoulder at the man, frowning faintly. "How do you know that?" His eyes flickered back to the target and then to Gin again. "Looks fine to me."

"Yer aim is off," Gin corrected, sounding every bit the stern teacher he had been trying to be.

When Ichigo frowned again, pretty certain that Gin was mistaken, the silver-haired man stepped forward.

"Here, lemme show ya," Gin said from right next to Ichigo.

He took up position not even half a foot away, mimicking Ichigo's exact pose. He leaned over slightly to match the younger man's height and raised an arm, leveling it with Ichigo's. He then gradually shifted the direction he pointed, explaining how to match the target with his depth perception and sense of distance.

Ichigo, however, had stopped listening the moment his friend stepped that close to him. It was an almost intimate position, Gin standing just behind his right shoulder. He was practically nestled against the older man, surrounded by the faintly woodsy scent that he had grown to associate with Gin.

Urahara's words and suggestions grew louder in his head, reminding him of the hours he had spent in his room, simply thinking. Of how close he and Gin had gotten since his arrival. How much they had in common; how easy it was to get along with the man. He thought of how much he prided himself on getting a true smile out of Gin and not the wide grin he showed the world.

Ichigo thought of how close they were. How he could feel the heat of the man's body at his back, his every sense positively aware of Gin's presence. If he had the courage, he could turn his head and close the distance between them with no trouble at all. In the space of less than a breath. He could press his lips against Gin's and finally learn what the man really tasted like, the flavor to match the scent.

He realized with sudden, startling clarity that he wanted to.

Without thinking, Ichigo lowered his hands and moved his head, all in the same motion. No longer worrying about kidoh or defeating Byakuya or mastering the _byakurai_. Confused by the movement, Gin turned towards him, explanation falling short.

Ichigo closed the distance before he could think twice about it, kissing on automatic. How could he not with Gin's lips right there, positioned just so? It was perfectly natural, perfectly right. As if there was nothing holding him back and there never had been.

He made the kiss brief, more than he wanted it to be. But he recognized that he had crossed some invisible line, overstepping the boundary between friendship and something more. He needed to explain why.

Ichigo pulled back, brown eyes hesitantly searching Gin's face. His friend was quiet, expression unreadable as he lowered his hand from where he had still been aiming at the target.

An uncertain feeling tugged in the younger man's gut. Perhaps Urahara had been wrong, that he had taken everything the complete wrong way.

Ichigo lowered his gaze to the side, absolutely mortified. "I'm sorry."

His voice pierced the hesitant silence. And as if it were a trigger, Gin finally stirred.

"Don't be," he said quietly.

Ichigo fidgeted, fingers of one hand anxiously tugging at his hakama before he suddenly blurted out, "I like you." It came out a bit more forcefully than he had intended. "I like you, and I don't want that to be a problem between us."

"It won't be," Gin responded, his own thoughts skittering back and forth, pummeling into each other. Memories of the past and his own regrets were harsh reminders. But Ichigo wasn't like Rangiku, not like her at all. He had to remind himself of this over and over.

The teenager jerked his head into a vague nod, face burning brightly. "Oh, okay." He hastily dropped his eyes again, blush deepening.

He thought now would be the best time to make a tactical retreat. Not run away but wisely put some distance between them and give himself time to regroup.

He started to move away. But then, Gin grabbed his robe at the waist, stopping him before he even managed one step. Ichigo shifted his weight back, not sure what to expect. The man was simply looking at him with those slitted eyes, his expression carefully blank and neutral. Ichigo didn't know what to think, what was being silently said.

'_Stupid geta-boushi_,' his mind ranted. '_Giving me bad advice. I'll beat him with that damn fan the next time I see him.' _

He swallowed thickly. "If you're going to hit me, just do it already."

But Gin didn't hit him. Instead, he leaned down very slowly, giving Ichigo all the time in the world to pull away if he so wanted. Ichigo simply stood there waiting, anticipation warring with the uncertainty heavy in his gut.

Gin pressed their lips together softly. Ichigo responded immediately, the disquiet flittering away with the realization that Gin was kissing him back. Which had to mean something, something that was a far better ending than the uncomfortable rift in their friendship he had been expecting to walk away with.

They paused, pulling apart only to shift and adjust position, before their lips crashed together again, meeting halfway. Ichigo's hand found its way to Gin's chest, palm against fabric, fingers barely brushing warm skin. He tilted his head upward, kiss deepening with a tentative touch of tongue. He felt Gin's fingers press into his back, unconsciously urging him closer. And he willingly moved, surrounded by the thin man's warmth.

It never went beyond the first tentative steps, gentle tasting and careful closeness, but it was enough. When they pulled apart, it wasn't far, their foreheads resting together.

"I like ya, too, Ichigo," Gin finally said, effectively shattering the last of Ichigo's unease.

The younger man smiled, instantly relieved. They stood like that for several long moments, simply looking at each other. Until Ichigo squirmed, a hearty blush threatening to break out onto his cheeks.

"So... uh... what do we do now?"

Gin chuckled. "What we've been doin' all along," he responded with amusement. "Though I suppose we can add a few new things," he hinted suggestively.

Ichigo coughed to hide his embarrassment, praying that his face wasn't as crimson as it felt. "Right," he agreed. "New things."

"Yep!"

Their lips met again, no preamble this time. Ichigo responded all too willingly, fingers curling against Gin's pale skin. He thought he was going to like this, kissing Gin. What with the warmth that seemed to spread through his body.

Gin's tongue swiped playfully at his lips before he pulled away. "Back to kidoh?" he suggested.

The teenager nodded. "Yeah, okay."

He paused when they didn't move and then darted forward for a quick peck, only to abruptly break away with an embarrassed cough. "Maybe that fire one Renji knows," he added, going for nonchalance and failing miserably.

Gin grinned. "_Shakkahou_?"

"Yeah, that one."

The hand at Ichigo's waist tightened before drawing back. "It's an easy one," Gin responded teasingly. "Ya should get it on yer first try."

Nodding, Ichigo took a breath, turned towards the target, and aimed.

* * *

a/n: Kyaah! They're so cute. I can't help but be a bit fangirly. Anyways, I'll bring you a few side pieces next week and then its on to the serious plot! I do hope you enjoyed and all comments are welcome! Thanks!


	10. No Longer Lacking

**Title: No Longer Lacking**

**Characters: Gin, Ichigo**

**Rating: K+**

**Warning: None**

**Words: 403**

**Description: ****Takes place before _Immoral Melody_. Handmade and colorful, Gin's gift could definitely give Rukia's drawings a run for the money.**

* * *

Ichigo blinked.

Turned it sideways. Tried to make sense of the many lines and symbols and marks and bright colors. Turned it upside-down. Or at least what he thought was upside-down. And then, tilted his head to the side.

He blinked again. "What is it?"

"A map," Gin explained cheerily.

Ichigo checked, just to make sure.

Ah, it made sense now. The face with orange hair... that must be his room. The stacks of books were the library. The knife and fork was the dining room. The sword must be the training grounds. It was actually rather good and colorful, way better than Rukia's in any case.

He looked up at his new friend, who had an almost expectant look on his face.

"Why?"

"So Ichigo-kun doesn't get lost," Gin chirped as if that should have been obvious. He folded his arms in his sleeves, watching for Ichigo's reaction.

The teenager supposed that made sense. He had a habit of doing so, after all. It was hard to find his bearings in Las Noches. Nel had even taken to riding on his shoulder like Yachiru, though she was thousand times better at giving directions.

"...Thanks," he said, glancing down at the map again. "This is way better than relying on Nel. I was beginning to feel like Kenpachi."

Gin grinned broader, looking exceedingly proud of himself.

Ichigo folded up the map and tucked it into the folds of his robes where he wouldn't lose it. "Did you make this yourself?"

"Yep."

The younger man was suitably impressed, one hand brushing the back of his head. "Guess I should repay you or something, hmm?"

"Ya don't have to," Gin replied. "Ichigo-kun's my friend."

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah, I am." He paused, looking around where they stood just outside of his room, Gin having met him just a few moments after leaving. "We could... practice that reiatsu hiding thing?"

Gin tipped his head to the side. "The training grounds then?"

"Yeah."

He turned and started down the hall. It only took him a second to realize that Gin wasn't following. Ichigo hesitated and looked over his shoulder.

"Ichigo-kun, it's this way."

The teenager sighed and patted the map tucked into his shirt. He turned and headed back towards Gin, the man smiling at him with something like amusement quirking his lips.

"Right. Thanks again for the map."

* * *

a/n: Just a short piece of pointless fluff. There should be another one coming later in the week, and then I'll pick up the plot again on my regular update day. I just thought you guys might enjoy this little piece. Lemme know if ya did!


	11. The Right Moves

**Title: The Right Moves**

**Characters: Gin, Ichigo**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: None **

**Words: 452**

**Description: Takes place sometime before _Breathe Slowly. _Evil always gets the best stuff.**

* * *

"I'm bored."

The words slithered through the room and traveled to Gin's ears, causing him to look up in surprise. His newest friend was lying on his back on the floor, arms all akimbo and staring up at the ceiling. It was a strange position for Ichigo and Gin couldn't help but raise a brow.

"Bored?" he repeated.

Ichigo nodded, head making tiny ticks against the polished floor. He lifted his hands, staring at them as he ticked off words on his fingers. "I've already sparred today, kicking Grimmjow's ass has gotten old, and Ulquiorra's too stuck-up to give me good fight. Dinner isn't for another few hours. I read all the Shonen Jump you gave me, and I really, _really_ don't want to practice kidoh right now."

"I have an idea," Gin suggested, rising to his feet and standing over the sprawled teen. "Wanna hear it?"

Brown eyes rolled up towards him, somewhat skeptical. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

Gin snickered. "We could play DDR!"

Ichigo groaned and knocked his head against the floor again. "You actually have a Playstation?"

"Of course!" Gin chirped as he wandered over to his entertainment center and selected the game from a stack. He moseyed back to Ichigo, dropping the case on the teen's belly. "See?"

The boy's hand dropped to the case and tilted it up towards him. Moments later, his eyes widened in surprise. Ichigo jerked upwards, sitting up in a manner of seconds. He stared in awe at the game in his hands.

"How did you get this?" Ichigo demanded, blinking as he cracked open the case and pulled out the disc, examining it carefully. "It's the special edition! It was only released in two countries… with only twenty copies!" His voice was getting rather high at this point as he shifted his eyes up towards Gin.

The former captain chuckled. "I stole it," he said in an amused tone, grinning widely.

Ichigo's reaction was priceless.

"Evil, remember?"

Ichigo sighed, holding the disc rather longingly. "Evil always gets the best stuff."

"Wanna play?" Gin asked, picking his way across the floor to his entertainment cabinet and swinging it open, revealing the TV and system within. Next to it were two folded playing mats, fully ready for use.

The teenager was on his feet in seconds, moving to put the disc in the player. Then, seeming to realize his excitement, Ichigo paused before he even closed the lid and turned to look at Gin. His gaze was hard and warning.

"No laughing," he ordered, as though sensing the smile on his friend's face. "Don't tell anyone either. Especially not Grimmjow."

Gin shrugged. "If you say so, Ichigo-kun. Now, let's play."

"You're on."

--

a/n: Another short, cute, fluffy and yet, pointless drabble. Next chapter starts back with the plotty stuff, all seriousness with hints of humor and whatnot. Just thought you guys would enjoy a short, midweek update. Thanks! I hope you liked.


	12. Whisper of the Apocalypse

a/n: Dearest me! I'm terribly sorry for the wait but I lost access to the internet without any warning at all! I apologize for being unable to respond to your reviews but I enjoyed each and every one of them. They were wonderful things to return to. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Here we head back to the plot!

**Title: Whisper of the Apocalypse**

**Pairings/ Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Stark, Aizen, Urahara**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Light Yaoi, Language**

**Words: 3,071**

**Description: The beginning of the end for Soul Society.**

* * *

_Scriiiitch! Clang!_

With a huff, Ichigo spun, his waraji barely clinging to the sand and trying to slide out from beneath him. He ignored his uneven footing, however, and swung Zangetsu in a wide arc, hoping that this hit would finally land.

In the brief moment it had taken him to blink, Gin had disappeared. And he was left staring at thin air. _How the hell was the man that fast? _

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo whirled, gaze darting around the area. His eyes widened, and he had only a split second to throw himself to the ground.

"_Ikorose__!_"

Shinsou went sliding past him, clipping the edge of his clothing and sending a fluttering of white to the sand. Ichigo rolled as he struck the ground, barely keeping a grip on Zangetsu. He was on his feet before he stopped moving, sweat dripping from his body and sand clinging to his clothing.

"_Shakkahou!_"

A burst of fiery flame, larger than he could control and with no real attempt to aim, flew from his fingers in the vague direction Gin had just been. A red glow filled the air as he felt his reiatsu explode. Ichigo didn't waste any time seeing if it hit. He was already flitting in another direction in a burst of shunpo, furiously scanning the training grounds for signs of Gin.

The chuckle behind him was his first hint. "Yer gettin' better," Gin chirped. "That almos' burnt my hakama."

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo whirled, bringing up Zangetsu in enough time to parry Shinsou. Their swords met in a fierce, ringing clang that echoed through the sky. They squared off against each other, hovering a good dozen feet above the ground. Gin still smiled at him, perfectly calm.

"I'll show you who's better," Ichigo growled playfully, quirking an eyebrow at his lover.

Gin's grin widened. "Please do."

There was a breath of wind, and Ichigo suddenly broke away, flitting backwards as his waraji dug furrows into the path he created on the very air itself. Smirking at Gin, he lifted Zangetsu, reiatsu swirling around him fiercely. There was only one way for him to keep up with the man's speed.

"_Bankai_!"

The burst of his reiatsu would have knocked out any normal person. Gin merely smiled, the wave of power hitting him straight on but barely making his clothes rustle.

Ichigo growled on the inside.

He was barely situated, adjusting to the change in Zangetsu's weight before the kidoh barreled towards him, some kind of series of fiery darts. He knew from personal experience that those things hurt like fucking hell. And he was in no mood to feel that ever again.

"_Getsuga kensen__!_"

Ichigo was already counter-attacking, sweeping Zangetsu out and releasing the energies swirling inside of him. A wider form of _getsuga tenshou_ burst from the blade in a sweeping semi-circle, fully able to obliterate anything directly in front of him. Including the damn darts.

That was what he loved about fighting against Gin. He didn't have to hold back because he could count on his sparring partner to successfully elude anything particularly dangerous. Perhaps a bit too successfully since Ichigo usually lost these little matches.

He couldn't ever go all out against his other friends. He feared hurting Ishida and Chad, and Renji sulked if he lost too much. Ichigo could only handle a first-class Renji-sulk every once in a while before he lost just to avoid the man's pouting.

Gin and he had been sparring like this for the better part of an hour, Ichigo getting his ass kicked from one end of the training grounds to the other. There was no way around it. Gin was simply better than him, both stronger and faster. Though Ichigo was catching up. He was an even match for Stark now when he hadn't been a few months before.

Ichigo hovered in the air, waiting to see the results of one of his newest attacks. It was something he had been working on with ossan. He strained his senses, trying to focus on where Gin would come from next. The former captain was a master of sneaking up on him, striking from the least likely position with the most surprising of moves.

"Yer gettin' faster," he heard his lover chime from somewhere around him.

The teenager frowned, whipping his head around. _Where the hell was he? _

There was a whistle of something, some kidoh that would probably sting like fucking hell. His realization came much too late, even with the speed of his bankai. Gin popped up from beneath him in the space of a second, blue and black eyes peering from beneath the white of his mask. He had only a millisecond to recognize the echoing quality of Gin's laughter.

"_Kitsune-bi_," Gin chanted before Ichigo felt the full brunt of his lover's favorite kidoh jam into his belly.

Ichigo grunted from the force of the spell, a curl of white-blue fire shaped like a fox rushing towards him and slamming him backwards. He went flying, the air whooshing out of him as he abruptly crashed into the sand, a great burst of dust rising in his wake. Zangetsu slipped from his fingers, skittering a few feet away.

His head spun from the abrupt blow as he struggled to draw in a breath, blue flame slowly smothering under his spiritual pressure. Ichigo groaned, shoving one elbow into the sand to rise but was thwarted when a shadow fell over him, the tip of a sword poised above.

"Looks like I win a'gin," Gin's voice taunted from above him, distorted but still essentially the same.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes and abruptly rolled out from under the blade, ignoring the pain in his abdomen. His foot swung out, sweeping against his lover's knees. Gin grunted and faltered, which was enough for Ichigo to launch himself upwards. One hand grabbed his lover's wrist, pushing it aside, as he tackled the older man to the sand.

They landed with a harsh grunt, Ichigo straddling the former captain. One hand pinned Gin's wrist to the ground, the other splayed against the man's chest.

"I win," Ichigo huffed, still struggling to draw in a breath from the rough tumble he had taken.

Rather than concede defeat, Gin laughed and reached up with his free hand, prying off his mask. Ichigo only caught a glimpse of luminescent red irises before his lover's eyes slitted again. It always amused him, how Gin's eyes were blue within the mask and yet returned to scarlet afterwards. Both suited his lover perfectly.

The mask dropped to the sand, slowly cracking and withering away. "Maybe I letcha," Gin teased.

Ichigo snorted. "You say that every time I manage to win."

"Do I?"

"Yes," Ichigo retorted in an insistent tone, poking Gin in the chest.

His lover laughed at him again and reached up with his free hand, tangling thin fingers in Ichigo's hair and pulling his head downwards. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the man wanted, Ichigo meeting him halfway for a hungry kiss. His grip on Gin's wrist went slack, hand landing against the sand for better balance.

It seemed their matches always ended like this until one of them abandoned their superior position and dragged the other back to their room. Yes, one room. Ichigo had long given up on remaining in his. It was too bothersome.

Gin parted his lips, eagerly deepening the kiss. Ichigo slid his tongue into his lover's mouth, hand sliding across his chest and slipping easily into the gap in his clothing. His palm encountered pale, warm flesh, causing the older man to groan beneath him. Gin's free hand wrapped around Ichigo, pulling his body down against him.

They broke off from the kiss with a chuckle from the former captain.

"Tha's better," he murmured as their hips came in contact.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Pervert," he commented affectionately.

Thin fingers again tangled in Ichigo's hair, which he would have to cut soon. "Yer bleedin'," Gin returned, sliding his hand down to trace a finger along the side of Ichigo's face where a thin trail of blood was slowly starting to dry.

"My gut's also twisted up, but you don't see me complaining," Ichigo responded with a snort, feeling the bruising on his stomach but also knowing that it was already slowly starting to knit itself.

"How true."

And then, they were kissing again, open mouthed and hungry tangling of tongues that did nothing but increase the strength of their libido. Blood rushing through their veins from the rush of battle only heightened the lust.

Gin's hand ventured from the small of Ichigo's back, drifting further down, urging their groins into a slow grind that made his lover gasp into his mouth. That cute flush, which Ichigo still hadn't managed to completely eradicate, spread across the teenager's cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He decided to tease on his own, sliding his palm beneath the many layers his lover insisted on wearing and deftly finding a nipple.

"Ahem."

There was a cough, barely filtering through their senses.

"I'd hate to interrupt," a familiar voice lazily drawled, "but the boss wants to speak with you."

With much reluctance, the kiss ended with a parting nibble to Gin's bottom lip. Ichigo sighed and rolled off his lover. And in one smooth motion, he rose to his feet.

Gin peered up at their visitor through slitted eyes. "What about?"

Stark shrugged, idly flicking a hand through his hair. "Isn't my business to question the boss. He just sent me to find you." He flickered his gaze over them. "Not that you're that hard to find."

Swiping Zangetsu from the ground, Ichigo dissolved his bankai and returned his zanpakutou to his back. "We didn't destroy the ceiling this time," he countered, though he knew Stark was only teasing.

Of all the Espada, excluding Nel, Ichigo found Stark to be the most agreeable. They were friends of a sort. Much like he used to be with Ikkaku.

He turned away from Stark and offered a hand to his lover, helping pull him to his feet. "I think Numero Uno's jealous," Gin chimed with a smirk tossed the Espada's direction.

"Of me or of you?" Ichigo countered, finding Shinsou and returning it to its owner.

Stark arched one brow. "How about neither? I have my own _amante_, thank you very much. I prefer them female anyway."

"With ample assets," the teenager inserted with a snicker, always amused by teasing Stark because the Espada was so calm. Even in the midst of battle.

"Then, why do ya keep walkin' in on us?" Gin accused playfully.

The brunet whirled on his heels with a parting wave. "Well, if you didn't insist on copulating wherever the mood strikes you, I wouldn't be forced to stop you," he threw over his shoulder. "Better talk to the boss soon. It's important."

Ichigo exchanged a glance with Gin, the two of them quietly snickering. A hand raked through orange hair, dislodging bits of sand and grit that had gathered.

"Important, huh?" Ichigo repeated.

"Guess there's no time fer a bath then," Gin replied with a lascivious grin, curling his hand around Ichigo's waist and dragging him nearer. He pressed their lips together briefly.

Ichigo squirmed, knowing they didn't really have the time. "Not that it's ever just a bath with you," he teased, though brown eyes were dark with want.

Gin chuckled. "How true, Ichigo. How very true."

* * *

He found the feeling of fingers running through his hair to be simultaneously soothing and irritating, contradicting emotions. Not surprising when considering the owner of the touch, who was currently perched on the arm of his throne as if he belonged there.

"Must you sit there?" Aizen asked, feeling his eyebrow twitch.

The hand stopped in its motion for only the briefest of seconds before continuing. "I could sit on your lap if you want," Urahara responded brightly, face hovering just behind Aizen's ear. And though he couldn't see his good friend's face, Kisuke imagined the man had a familiar, amused smirk.

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo sighed. "We can provide you with your own, if you would like."

"I like yours better," came the simple response, Benihime tapping at the man's side and creating a rapping noise that echoed throughout the throne room.

Aizen didn't bother to repress his second sigh, wondering if perhaps he had made a mistake when allowing his dear friend to join him. Not that Kisuke had given him much of a choice in the matter.

"I suppose because I am in it."

He knew Kisuke had to be smirking at that one.

"Of course."

And the hand in his hair playfully traced across the shell of his ear.

Aizen Sousuke merely resigned himself to the situation and patiently awaited Gin and Ichigo's arrival. He contemplated how much amusement he would derive from "accidentally" knocking Urahara from his perch and absentmindedly wondered how big of a dent the man would make in his floor.

The door chose that moment to crack open as both of his heirs stumbled in, covered in dust and some measure of blood, their outfits somewhat rumpled. Aizen arched one brow at their appearance, easily able to guess what they had been up to when Stark found them.

"It wasn't urgent enough that you could not have changed," he told them as Kisuke continued that infernal petting.

Aizen was already secretly plotting something irritating and devious in return.

The two exchanged a secret lover's glance. And really, it was the most adorable thing he had seen in quite some time.

Ichigo shrugged. "Stark said it was important."

"He thinks dinner is important," Urahara snipped with a snort. "That is, when he's awake for it."

"Now, Kisuke," Aizen admonished, casually straightening and no longer leaning against the arm opposite the shop owner. "There is no need for such petty jealousy."

It was Ichigo's turn to watch the exchange between the two with a skeptical expression. Finding it difficult to believe that were merely "special friends" as Gin had called it.

"But you did want to speak to us, right?" he asked, redirecting their attention.

Aizen inclined his head. "Gin, Ichigo, I have a mission for you. And I think you'll enjoy it. How would you like to wreak a little havoc?"

Interest perked on both of their faces, though Gin looked ready to accept without even asking.

Ichigo, however, was a bit more wary than his lover. He knew the geta-boushi a bit better than Gin, after all. "What do you want us to do?"

Urahara stirred at the query. "I found out some interesting news," he explained with a hint of bemusement to his tone. "It seems Mayuri's not as useless as we all thought."

"Oh?" Gin commented dryly. "How's that?"

"He created a gate," Aizen inserted with a small frown. "One that will allow Soul Society to freely enter and leave Hueco Mundo."

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest, looking years older as he contemplated. "I didn't think they'd invade. It's too forward and direct."

"They're not." Urahara snickered, finally withdrawing his fingers from Aizen's hair and shifting positions. "They are building a cannon to fire through the gate at Las Noches."

"Fucking cowards," Ichigo muttered, not surprised in the least. He looked up at his king with a smirk. "You just don't want them to damage your palace."

He was given that enigmatic smile in return. "Quite. Of course, there are other objectives I wish for you to accomplish."

"Like what?"

The former fifth-division captain gave a faint gesture. "Gin undoubtedly wants to fetch his fukutaichou," Aizen expressed slowly.

Gin perked up in interest. "Sounds good ta me. Is that all?"

"Should you find anything else that needs attending, feel free," Aizen answered with an elegant shrug, basically giving them free rein for destruction. "It would be an excellent time to settle several scores."

"I know a certain little taichou that's been beggin' fer a visit," Gin murmured, more to himself, but Ichigo was in full agreement.

He nodded. "And someone does need to wipe that arrogant smirk from Byakuya's face."

The two shared another secret lover's glance as Gin grinned. "We'll just have ta make a list," he announced.

Above them, Urahara chuckled. "Try not to destroy the twelfth too much, boys," he warned. "I might want it back, you know."

"I'm not making any promises," Ichigo responded, thinking of his hatred for the creepy and slimy head of the research division. Ever since he had heard of what the freak intended to do with Inoue and Ishida, Ichigo couldn't look at him without the urge to draw Zangetsu.

"And perhaps," the shopkeeper added with a knowing glance to his student with shadowed eyes. "You might consider speaking to Kuchiki-san and Abarai-fukutaichou."

Ichigo sniffed. "I'll think about it."

In other words, he had no intention of doing so, and Urahara knew it. He understood. Ichigo was still quite bitter with Soul Society and anyone possibly connected to it. Even if they were without the knowledge of their superior's plan, he still found it difficult to entirely trust. Not when his family and friends had been in danger.

"When do ya want the cannon destroyed?" Gin asked, his face filling with an eager sort of anticipation.

They had been stuck in Hueco Mundo for quite some time, the passing of two whole seasons, without any sort of altercation with Soul Society. He was likely feeling a little stir-crazy.

"You can leave tomorrow night," Aizen suggested.

Gin's lips pulled into a wide grin. "Hai, Aizen-taichou." He turned and grabbed his lover's hand. "We've got a list to make, Ichigo-kun."

"List," the younger male snorted. "Right." The reddening of his cheeks proved otherwise, even as he allowed Gin to pull him from the throne room.

Urahara watched their exit with a sobering expression. "You know," he murmured, never taking his eyes off the two, "they're going to kill Hitsugaya."

"Of course," Sousuke responded, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. "And with great reason."

"Nothing less than he deserved," the shopkeeper agreed.

There was a pause as the door closed behind the two younger men.

"But then, who among us gets what we deserve?"

Aizen made a noncommittal sound in his throat. "That, my dear Kisuke, is the question. Who indeed?"

* * *

a/n: Serious stuff to come guys. Be prepared!


	13. The Twilight Hour Part I

**a/n: Just a reminder. Because this story is a ficlet series, its not really being written in any defined order. I realize that Gin and Ichigo jumped from kissing to lovers. There's a whole span of several months missing in there. I'll write little pieces to fill in the gaps as they come to me. Or at least, that is the plan and I already have several in the works. **

**So just in case any of you were curious or were hoping to see more of that part of their relationship, here's a heads up. They are listed in timeline order on my homepage if you prefer to read them in that order, but I can't promise I won't slip in little stories here and there. -grin- **

**With that said, enjoy. Oh! And take careful note of the warnings for the next four updates. It gets serious here.  
**

**Title: The Twilight Hour (Part One)**

**Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Kira**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: boy/boy kiss**

**Words: 3,610**

**Description: Of distractions and retrievals. Stage one of their invasion begins. **

* * *

The sky crackled with static moments before it ripped and tore open, creating a portal between Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. Two white clothed forms stepped through the Garganta, a thin arm gesturing to close it behind them. Ichigo and Gin hovered in the darkened sky, looking down at the sleeping Seireitei. No one seemed to stir at their sudden appearance.

"So what first?" Ichigo posed, glancing down at the darkened buildings that he had once fought to save. Twice.

He felt only the briefest tugs inside of his chest, a faint hint of wondering, before it promptly flitted away. This place was no longer a second home to him, if it had ever been at all. The Shinigami within were his enemies. He cast off lingering attachments, concentrating instead on the slow burn of anger and disgust.

Beside him, Gin's hand dug into his pocket. "I brought a list," he chirped, producing a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper.

"List? Let me see." Ichigo blinked. He hadn't realized that his lover was serious about the damn thing.

He took the paper and peered at the dark lines. The moon above and behind them was enough light for him to clearly make out their six objectives. Ichigo mumbled under his breath as he read.

"Rescue Izuru-chan... hmm. We'll need a distraction for that," he muttered. "Hitsugaya... mayhem... Yamamoto's..." Ichigo's face abruptly reddened. "Gin!"

The older man chuckled and leaned in close, whispering right in Ichigo's ear. "Wouldn't it be fun, hmm?" he asked, an adventurous hand trailing across the teenager's lower back with an insinuating press of fingers.

Blushing furiously even after months of enduring such behavior, Ichigo shoved the list back, pressing it against Gin's chest. "Let's just do this," he responded, trying to ignore the shiver of interest that drizzled down his spine.

Dammit, they didn't need any distractions. At least not of that sort and not at the current moment.

One hand rescued the fluttering paper and returned it to the pocket from whence it came. "Everything on the list?" Gin asked with a warm parting nip to the other man's ear.

Ichigo sighed, feeling his cheeks flaming scarlet, and conceded, "Yeah, everything."

Beside him, Gin's grin widened with lecherous intent, prompting his lover to roll his eyes. Ichigo made it a point to look around, in the mood to destroy something and figuring setting fire to something would be a great way to start the night. There was only one thing Aizen had been specific about, and they planned on hitting that last. Until then… well, they were given free reign to create as much destruction as they wanted.

"What building would be empty this time of night?" he questioned, still very unfamiliar with Soul Society's organization and cycles.

"Why?"

"We need a distraction," Ichigo answered, the warm wind pulling at their clothing a stark difference from the chill of Hueco Mundo. "I don't want to just kill random people."

Gin cocked his head, pausing and looking down at the structures beneath them. They were currently hovering above the common training grounds for the Academy. No sense in destroying those just yet.

He swept his eyes to the left, lips curving. "Tha's a storage building," Gin suggested, pointing to a large, two-storey structure with few windows.

"Good enough."

In a burst of shunpo, Ichigo flitted over, face furrowing cutely in concentration. Time to put his kidoh to work in more than just battle. He hadn't mastered all of them, but he had enough to be dangerous. That was all that mattered.

He pulled his reiatsu to his fingertips. _"Shakkahou!_"

A burst of flame, wild and barely within his control, burst from his fingers, barreling brightly towards the building. Aiming wasn't even necessary as the orange blaze exploded against a wall, sending a great flare of light into the sky. Ichigo smirked as the structure abruptly went up in flames, fire licking at the sides and causing the glow to reflect on their faces.

Gin appeared at his right, admiring his handiwork. "Powerful but a bit unstable," he mused with a faint nod.

"Oy!" Ichigo countered with a scowl. "I'm getting better."

His lover chuckled at him. "So ya are. List?"

Shaking his head, Ichigo was convinced that a part of the older man was just a bit insane. Though he supposed they all were in some ways.

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah, let's go." He looked around them, still not quite sure which direction to go. "Where's Kira-san?"

"Unless he's on patrol, he should be at home," Gin replied sweetly. "Follow me."

And just like that, they dropped down to the roofs of Seireitei and bled into the darkness, their forms shadowed against the night. Behind them, guards sleepily awoke at their posts and cries of "Fire!" were beginning to resound. Ichigo chuckled to himself as he followed his lover, flitting from rooftop to rooftop in silent shunpo. It never ceased to surprise him just how much faster Gin was unless Ichigo happened to be in bankai.

It wasn't long before they had arrived at the third division, the grounds entirely silent and still. Gin paused, releasing his reiatsu only briefly to scan for his lieutenant's presence. Ichigo drew to a stop beside him, eyes constantly searching for any witnesses to their presence. While they were certain they could handle anyone who would attack, it would make their mission difficult to complete if they were constantly fighting.

No one even stirred, however. Seireitei had gotten complacent in the past two seasons.

"Is he here?" Ichigo questioned, his voice carrying no further than the two of them.

After a moment, Gin nodded. "Sleepin'."

In silent agreement, they dropped down into the courtyard without a sound. A cloud passed over the moon above them, giving them even more darkness as a cover. Not that anyone was there to notice.

Ichigo followed Gin's lead as he moved to the door that Ichigo could only assume belonged to Kira. It slid open quietly, and they stepped inside, Ichigo closing it behind them with a faint snick. It was even darker inside, and they paused to let their eyes adjust.

He felt Gin's hand on his arm, lightly squeezing.

"Ichigo," Gin whispered in his ear. "Yer tellin' everyone where we are."

He flushed and forced himself to pull back on his leaking reiatsu. "I'm tryin'," he hissed back, though he knew his lover was only teasing. "It's hard ya know."

Ichigo _had_ been practicing, and he was much better at it than he used to be. He could go into Karakura without attracting every Hollow in sight at least. But those skilled in sensing reiatsu wouldn't have too difficult of a time tracking him if he lost his concentration. He often needed to be reminded.

Gin chuckled and released his arm with a soft pat, stepping further inside. Ichigo followed him, carefully navigating the dark shadows of furniture that he thought he could make out.

They found the door to Kira's bedroom, Gin soundlessly slid opening the door and padding inside. Ichigo trailed along after him but hovered near the doorway, leaning against the wall and watching. He was content to let his lover do most of the work here; Kira was far more important to Gin. Ichigo crossed his hands over his chest, half-concentrating on reigning in strands of leaking reiatsu.

Faint light from the lanterns outside streamed in through the window, illuminating the room enough to see Izuru in his bed, curled up on one side. His lips were pulled into a faint frown, even in sleep. Gin moved noiselessly over, crouching down next to his sleeping vice-captain. One slim-fingered hand snuck out, briefly brushing back long blond strands before covering Izuru's mouth.

"Izuru-chan," Gin murmured in a sing-song tone, trying to waken his subordinate. He would always consider Izuru his lieutenant. Never anyone else.

Kira stirred, rolling over onto his back with a faint noise. His eyes fluttered open, peering blearily upwards, only to widen in surprise. Not out of fear but out of genuine shock. Gin wondered if Izuru thought he was merely dreaming.

Gin lifted his free hand, holding a finger to his lips. "Shh," he shushed with a motion, highlighting the secrecy of the visit. When the blond nodded in understanding, Gin uncovered his mouth.

"Taichou!" Izuru exclaimed in a loud and obviously relieved whisper. Then, his eyes flickered around the room, peering through the dark at the person standing near his doorway. "And Kurosaki-san! You're not dead."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, though his annoyance was directed at Soul Society, not Kira's assumption. "I should have seen that one coming."

"But..." Izuru trailed off, genuine confusion taking over his face as he pulled himself into a sitting position. One hand lifted to pull hair out of his eyes. "What are you doing here? If they find out--"

Gin shook his head, cutting his subordinate off before he could worry any further. "We came to get ya, Izuru," he explained with a grin. He was relieved that the blond hadn't instantly responded with anger. "Besides, Ichigo provided a nice distraction."

The lack of honorific was not missed by Izuru, though he pushed it aside for other, more pressing concerns. "Distraction? Get me?" he repeated with a faint frown. "What do you mean?"

"We've a list of stuff!" Gin answered with a happy clip to his words. "And ya were number one."

Ichigo snickered, well aware of his lover's current feelings and shifted position against the wall. "Do you really want to stay here in Soul Society?" he asked Izuru. "Gin wants you to come with us."

Again the familiarity they had with one another was startling to Kira. He wanted to ask about it but was startled by the offer they gave. The very one he had been waiting for, wondering why it hadn't been given before. The very thing that had made him question himself.

Izuru looked at the man he would forever consider his captain. Gin nodded, confirming Ichigo's statement, the smile on his lips warm and genuine. The blond sucked in his bottom lip, remembering all the sorrow and feelings of despair that had attacked him after the events of the betrayal.

"You didn't even ask me," he said quietly, folding his arms in his lap and shifting his eyes away. He didn't want his captain to think he had become weak. "Before, I mean. I would have gone." He paused, voice even quieter and a thousand times more hurt. "You left me behind."

There was a moment of absolute silence where nothing stirred as Gin lowered his head, feeling incredible guilt and doubting his own judgment in the matter. He had thought he'd chosen what was best, but maybe... maybe he had been wrong all along.

"I'm sorry," Gin responded softly, trying to explain himself. "But ya weren't ready yet." He lifted his head, looking at Izuru. "Now, ya are. So I came back."

Those big blue eyes turned back towards him, blinking rapidly. There was a second of wibbling before Izuru was suddenly tackling him with a hug.

"Taichou!" he sniffled, burying his face in Gin's chest and clinging tightly.

Fondness replaced the guilt as Gin wrapped his arms around his subordinate, the young man he had taken under his wing all those years ago. Izuru was shaking, releasing pent up emotions that Gin blamed himself for causing.

His Izuru was quite different from Hinamori-chan and her obsessive behavior. No one understood just how important Gin was to his lieutenant, who had lost his parents and most of his family already, who just wanted someone to believe in him. Someone he could trust.

The thought made Gin feel guilty all over again.

On the other side of the room, Ichigo watched the exchange in silence. Their obvious comfort with one another would have bothered him if he hadn't already known the aspects of their relationship. Gin and Kira were more like Aizen and Gin or Ichigo and the geta-boushi. Something that was far more parental than romantic. There was nothing to be jealous over.

Gin's fingers rubbed over the blond's back as the last of his silent weeping trailed off. "Get changed, Izuru-chan," he ordered softly. "We've got stuff to do."

"Right," Izuru confirmed with a faint nod, pulling back and surreptitiously wiping at his eyes, which were the brightest Ichigo had seen them in quite some time. "The list."

They detached themselves from each other, and Gin rose to his feet. Silent communication passed between Ichigo and him as they left the room, giving Izuru time to compose himself, gather whatever belongings he wanted to keep, and change his clothes. Gin closed the door behind him, and Ichigo watched his lover critically, knowing there was a storm brewing behind those shuttered eyes.

"Maybe I shoulda brought 'im wit me the firs' time," Gin commented, hand lingering on the latch to the door before dropped it at his side.

"Soul Society wasn't exactly kind to him," Ichigo responded without thinking, remembering the few times he had managed to coax some information out of Renji or the geta-boushi.

He caught sight of the shame flickering across his lover's expression, followed quickly by a deep frown. Ichigo hurriedly amended his statement.

"But he might not have understood then either," the teenager added, fully believing that Gin had done the right thing. "He might have regretted his decision."

The older man was silent a moment, considering the statement before he moved away from the door. "You're prolly right," Gin murmured, fingers sliding around Ichigo's upper back and dragging him near.

"Of course I am," Ichigo responded with a snort, allowing the movement. He closed the space between them, capturing Gin's lips with his. It was an instinct he simply couldn't ignore when they were that close, this desire to kiss his lover.

The sound of Izuru's door opening was accompanied by a light and polite cough. "I'm ready," the vice-captain announced, wisely averting his eyes. The bare flush that pinked his cheeks was just as adorable as the one Ichigo tended to accrue.

Gin smiled, pulling away from his lover, only to hear the warning clanks echo through Seireitei. It was only preliminary alarms, alerting whichever division was supposed to be on call for the night. Gin and Ichigo weren't worried about facing hordes of Shinigami just yet. One burning building wasn't enough to call out all the divisions and captains.

"They discovered my handiwork." Ichigo smirked, crossing his arms over his chest rather proudly. He cocked his head, listening to the clanks again. "And they have the shittiest alarm system."

Izuru's brow wrinkled as one hand slid Wabisuke into his obi. "What did you do?"

The younger Vizard waved off the question, which was filled with some concern. "Relax. It was only a storage building. Gin pointed it out to me."

Blue eyes shifted to his captain as Ichigo moved to Izuru's outside door, sliding it open a scant few inches to peer around. "Which one?"

Gin grinned, tucking his arms into his sleeves. "Does it matter?"

"It's clear," Ichigo announced before Kira could even answer. "Let's go."

The former substitute was flitting out the door in the next second, making a silent leap onto the roof of the building. Exchanging glances, captain and lieutenant moved to follow, Izuru careful to close the door behind him. It was best to keep up appearances as long as possible.

Izuru lingered for only a moment, looking back at the station he had worked so hard to obtain and the division that had been his, even if only for a short while. A small part of him felt as if he were abandoning the third and all the Shinigami who depended on him. But a larger, more cynical, part of him realized that he wasn't leaving behind anything that hadn't already turned its back to him.

The third would find new leaders soon enough; they would be fine, better off without him. His subordinates would learn to accept someone else. Chamber 46 and Yamamoto would be proud of themselves for thinking they were right all along. What was Izuru really leaving behind him?

Nothing but pain.

Izuru clutched the small bag, filled with a few belongings, and then slung it over a shoulder. All that mattered to him was either inside or waiting for him on the roof.

He joined Ichigo and Gin where they had been patiently waiting for him and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Next on the list," Gin chirped merrily, patting his chest demonstratively where he kept the paper stashed.

"List?" Izuru repeated, half-wanting to see it. He had heard of this so-called list but had thought it was merely a joke.

He watched as his captain's smile widened to something more mischievous, producing a folded piece of paper. He handed it over without another word, the slip of parchment fluttering briefly in the wind. Izuru was curious, carefully unfolding and scanning the words scribed within.

His name was the first thing he spotted, right at the top on the list, and his eyes misted. "I'm first," Izuru said quietly. His taichou had said that, but he hadn't really believed it until he saw it right in front of him.

"Yep!" Gin agreed.

"We decided that together," Ichigo threw over his shoulder, leaping to a higher rooftop above them and looking around to catch his bearings.

In the distance, he could see the orange and red of the burning building, smoke creating a grey cloud in the sky above it. The clanks were still echoing, though with less urgency this time, as the fire brigade responded. His handiwork would be put out soon. He'd have to blow something else up just to keep them occupied.

Behind Ichigo, Izuru scanned the list again. "Hitsugaya-taichou?" he read aloud in a questioning tone, already moving on the next number, which caused him to promptly redden. "Yamamoto's--"

Ichigo was already in motion, and before Izuru could even finish the thought, the paper was snatched from his hand. Ichigo shoved the list down into the furthest reaches of his pocket where he hoped it would disappear. His own cheeks were pink, much to Izuru's amusement. And Gin's as well.

"Gin's idea, not mine," the teenager mumbled with a pointed look at his lover.

"But you're still gonna do it," Gin ribbed.

Ichigo sighed and raked a hand over his hair. "Yeah, whatever," he responded, but the warmth exuding from his eyes told a story different than irritation.

Chuckling, Gin turned towards his vice-captain. "Isn't Ichigo cute, Izuru-chan?"

Blue eyes darted between the two of them, furrowing with uncertainty. "Umm, I suppose, taichou?" the blond answered, making it sound more like another question.

Gin clucked his tongue. "Izuru-chan, call me Gin," he corrected. "Ya know, I've told ya that before."

Izuru nodded. "I know, taichou, but..."

"Don't hassle him, Gin," Ichigo interrupted, having gained control of his blush and feeling free to return to the conversation. "He was taught by Soul Society."

Ichigo flitted ahead of them, putting an extra burst in his step. He had the feeling both captain and vice-captain would want a moment to sort out the last little bit. While he knew Izuru to some degree, the relationship between the two of them was far deeper. This mission was as much about retrieving Izuru as it was destroying the damn cannon.

Left behind, Izuru looked between his two companions again, wanting to confirm what he had already assumed. "So you and Kurosaki-san are... together?" he tentatively inquired, hoping he wasn't offending his captain.

The grin on Gin's face could have lit the world. "Of course."

"Good," Izuru responded with a firm nod, smiling a little himself. "I'm glad for you."

His captain patted him affectionately. "I knew I could count on ya." Gin switched his attention to his lover, a rooftop ahead of them. "Ichigo, yer goin' the wrong way."

Ichigo cursed under his breath, skidding to a stop and turning to wait for them. "Then, get up here and show me the right way."

"Hai!"

Smiling to himself, Izuru hurried to catch up to the two lovers. He watched them interact with interest, remarking that it was the first time he had seen a true smile on his captain's face for someone else. He had never seen Ichimaru-taichou this happy before.

"Oy, Gin. Give me another target," Ichigo was saying as Izuru caught up to them.

Gin looked around, appraising their location before pointing. "How 'bout tha' one? It's one o'the smaller commissaries." He paused, reconsidering. "Try the _soukatsui_."

Ichigo scowled, though he lifted his hand anyway. "You only suggested that one because you know I suck at it," he put in and then glanced at Izuru. "Maybe you'll have to give me some pointers, ne?"

"Mah, Ichigo-kun still says I'm not good enough for him?" Gin pretend-pouted even as Ichigo winked at Izuru.

The former captain received his response when Ichigo's reiatsu spiked briefly and the kidoh went flashing through the air. Izuru chuckled under his breath as he watched the blue flame arc across the sky and slam into the side of the building. The commissary went up in a blaze, smoke curling around it.

A part of Izuru felt justified, unable to even dredge up an ounce of regret. And he knew that it was not over yet. There was still the infamous list to complete. Izuru was well aware of their destination, a trill of eagerness threading through him.

Hitsugaya-taichou was next.

--

A/N: This got so long I had to split it up into sections. But don't worry; it will all be out soon.


	14. The Twilight Hour Part II

a/n: Okay, so, remember how I said it was going to get rough? Yeah, that's right here. There's mature stuff in here guys, the M rating is not only for the boyxboy loving. There's lots of violence, **torture**, and other stuff. So you are warned. If it makes you queasy... don't read. That's about all I can tell you.

For the rest of you still here, do enjoy! I tried very hard not to massacre characterization so we'll see how well I did.

**Title: The Twilight Hour (Part Two)**

**Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Kira, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Kenpachi **

**Rating: MATURE**

**Warning: Torture, blood and gore, violence, character death, boy/boy kisses and the like**

**Words: 6,772**

**Description: Of blood and revenge. Paying a visit to a former ally leaves mixed feelings for all involved. **

* * *

"Send squad six and seven to investigate," Hitsugaya ordered firmly, dark circles lining his eyes. "Report any intruders. Do not engage."

His twelfth-seat swallowed thickly at the thought of possible intruders but remained stoic. "Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

His head throbbed, and Hitsugaya sighed. "Dismissed."

The boy, whose name he couldn't recall at the moment since it was three fucking o'clock in the morning, saluted sharply and scurried away. The rest of the tenth division milled about the courtyard, crisscrossing one another in an attempt to do all that he had ordered. While they were on call, they hadn't actually expected to respond. Everything was a bit hectic.

Hitsugaya rubbed at his forehead, feeling a migraine develop. "And someone find me Matsumoto!" he shouted to any of his subordinates nearby.

Several paused in the midst of their running, but when they realized he hadn't officially called any names, they kept moving. He supposed it would have been too much to ask for Matsumoto to have arrived promptly and ready for work the moment the summons had been given.

Hitsugaya sighed again and turned towards his office, half-contemplating finding Matsumoto's secret stash of sake. The randomly blown up buildings weren't really of great concern to him. He wasn't certain it was something to worry about. Likely a drunk Zaraki again or even an unplanned explosion, which happened sometimes given that the twelfth division was run by a moron like Kurotsuchi.

Shutting the door the main office behind him, one hand rubbed at his forehead. By Kami, he was tired. Being short of three captains and the ryouka's sudden disappearance had everyone on short fuses. He hadn't planned on being wakened this early in the morning. He knew he would have a full blown migraine soon if he didn't take care of it now. The captain vaguely remembered the pack of pills Unohana-taichou had given him, which were in his desk. So he trudged towards his office.

In the distance, he could hear the sounds of his subordinates scurrying around. He suspected it would be some time before Matsumoto managed to drag her lazy ass into work. He would berate her, if he thought it would do any good. But it didn't, so he kept his silence and saved himself another headache.

With yet an audible sigh that sounded too big for his frame, Hitsugaya stepped into his darkened office. Had he turned off the lights when he left? He didn't remember doing so. In fact--

His thoughts abruptly scattered when he felt the binding spell strike him full force, freezing him in place. Reiatsu trickled through his senses, vaguely familiar. Hitsugaya was unable to put an immediate pin on it, however. Wary and uncertain, he peered into the darkness of his office.

Footsteps slid across the polished wood behind him. Hitsugaya heard the distinct sound of his door sliding shut. He registered the murmur of yet another kidoh and felt a burst of reiatsu different than the other. It was something similar to the _kyoumon_ but far more potent. Someone didn't want to be disturbed.

Feeling a surge of anger and annoyance, Hitsugaya swept his eyes over his office again. It was then that a form stepped out of the shadows, white clothing clearly denoting his side in their conflict with Aizen. It took only a moment for the captain to recognize the bright orange hair and familiar scowl.

"Kurosaki," Hitsugaya hissed in a mixture of recognition and surprise, teeth clenched. He was already working up his reiatsu, worming it against the binding that restrained his movements. He would not take this travesty without a fight.

Ichigo arched one brow at the smaller male. "You can still talk," he commented in an amused tone. "I should have used something stronger."

Brown eyes flickered past Hitsugaya, catching sight of Gin and Izuru, who stood to either side of the door. With a brief nod of Ichigo's head, Kira stepped forward, yanking Hyourinmaru from Hitsugaya's back and snapping the pale green sash violently. If he hadn't been locked in the binding spell, the captain would have stumbled from the sheer force of it.

Ichigo watched the blond's actions impassively, inwardly stewing in his disgust for the captain he had once considered his ally. Every time he looked at Hitsugaya's face, he could hear Hanatarou's voice, telling him of Seireitei's plans. He could see in those blue-green eyes just what Hitsugaya was willing to do for orders.

Defiant, despite the loss of his zanpakutou, Hitsugaya stared straight back at him. "When the fuck did you learn kidoh?" he demanded. "I didn't think you were smart enough to figure it out."

Ichigo had known it would be like this. Hitting Hitsugaya with the binding spell from the outset would render the young Shinigami entirely helpless. He would go down without a fight, without a struggle. He would be defeated without even a chance of drawing Hyourinmaru. It was the same fate that would have been Inoue's. She wouldn't have been given a fighting chance either.

"I don' know," Gin announced from behind the captain, leaning casually against the wall with his hands tucked into his sleeves. "Ichigo's pretty clever. Figured out the Shinigami arts within a year. Not even you could manage that one."

Ichigo noticed the moment Hitsugaya recognized Gin's voice. Those eyes widened ever so subtly, and a flare of anger and hatred bloomed across his expression. Hitsugaya's mouth twisted into something cruel.

"Ichimaru," the child-captain hissed furiously before his icy gaze returned accusingly to Ichigo. "I should have known you'd fucking run to Aizen."

On his back, Zangetsu rattled ominously, both ossan and Shirosaki remembering with fury the deeds of the captain. "Well, that was your damn mistake," Ichigo returned, folding his arms over his chest.

"You lick his sandals with the rest of them?" Hitsugaya sneered, not one to give in without imparting a few words. "Scrape and bow on your knees? Or is it something else he wants from you?"

Ichigo felt the rise of anger inside of him, his face darkening. "You have no idea how much better he is than you," the Vizard snarled, eyes flashing gold and Hitsugaya's desk rattling ominously. It was a long moment before he could even reign in his reiatsu enough to hide it again.

"He sides with Hollows." Hitsugaya sniffed disdainfully, disgust pouring into his expression. "Not even that exile Urahara dared. It makes him lower than dirt." The boy worked his jaw as if a bad taste had entered his mouth. "I hope both the shitty bastards get what's coming to them."

The wave of furious reiatsu that swept through the room made Izuru gasp before Ichigo could put a clamp on it. His eyes didn't bother flashing, moving straight to gold as Shirosaki snarled and screamed for him to strike the pompous little brat.

In the past few months, Aizen and Urahara had been very good to Ichigo. They were his mentors, almost as fathers to him. He was not going to put up with Hitsugaya insulting them, and he mentally cataloged every one of the captain's discourtesies, Shirosaki peppering his brain with thoughts as to how he could make the brat pay for each one.

Then, he caught sight of Hitsugaya's hand twitching. The bastard was fighting against the spell, as if he actually thought he stood a fighting chance. Genius or not, the white-haired pipsqueak was clearly a fool for even believing it for a second.

Ichigo's eyes flickered past the child-captain towards Gin and Izuru. "How long do you think we have?" he demanded, fingers clenching against his own arms.

Gin shrugged dismissively, though it was clear he was fighting down his own anger. "Fifteen or twenty minutes. Maybe more knowing Ran."

"Long enough," Ichigo muttered, his tone dangerous. "Do it."

The smile that stretched across his lover's face was predatory. Izuru tossed Hyourinmaru to Ichigo, who caught the zanpakutou effortlessly. And then, the former heads of the third division exchanged a glance. A brief nod between them was all that was necessary.

Ichigo set Hyourinmaru on the desk behind him, smirking when he saw Hitsugaya's eyes follow the movement with evident want. "Don't you just wish you could have it?" he taunted, raising his hands.

"You bast-- urk!"

The curse dropped before Hitsugaya could finish as he was suddenly grabbed and whirled around in the same moment that Ichigo dispelled the kidoh.

Hitsugaya stumbled and then was promptly shoved to the floor, landing harshly on his back. The back of his skull struck the wood with a jarring bang, making his head spin. Izuru's knee planted itself on Hitsugaya's chest, restraining his movement. The child-captain coughed and grunted, dizziness assailing him.

Ichigo watched impassively as his lover and the vice-captain drew their zanpakutou and simultaneously slammed the unsealed blades through Hitsugaya's shoulders. They pinned him to the floor like a butterfly in an insect collector's case, blood dripping from the wounds to stain the decking beneath him.

Hitsugaya visibly gritted his teeth, face drawing with surprise and pain. "Traitors," he hissed as Gin rose to his feet, staring at him.

Ichigo stepped forward until he was standing right over Hitsugaya, looking down at the pinned child-captain. "Funny you should say that," he spat, giving the boy his best Aizen-like mysterious smirk. "Since you were the one who was going to kill Inoue."

Hitsugaya's fingers twitched. "I was under orders."

"Well, so are we," Gin and Ichigo managed to state in perfect tandem, prompting them to share an amused conspiratorial grin.

Icy eyes flickered to Izuru, narrowing in recognition. "I always knew you were a traitor," he spat.

The blond's face tightened, and his lips firmed. A flurry of emotions passed over his face, a dangerous storm of anger and pain before his fingers clenched around the hilt of Wabisuke. Izuru didn't pause as he abruptly twisted his zanpakutou to the side, ripping the blade through tendons and muscle. He bore down with his knee, leaning his weight on the captain's chest. The snap of a rib pierced the dark silence of the room.

Ichigo barely flinched as Hitsugaya groaned, his body jerking. The bastard's face paled considerably, until he was whiter than a sheet. Sweat began gathering on his shoulder as more blood dampened the wood beneath Ichigo's feet.

Even still, Hitsugaya couldn't resist a jab because child or not, he was still a captain of the Gotei 13. Pinned and beaten, at the hands of those who held much anger towards him, he refused to beg for his life or simply die without ever having spoken.

He coughed, fingers twitching. "Brave now that your precious taichou's back," Hitsugaya snarled, managing defiance. He sneered. "You weren't so courageous when you were crying to Yamamoto about not betraying anyone."

Hitsugaya's words were enough of a reminder for Ichigo. He believed that out of the three of them, perhaps Izuru had the most justification for this. While he despised Hitsugaya for what he was going to do to Inoue, the boy-captain had been under orders. What he had put Izuru through was pure maliciousness, borne from feelings of inadequacy that he'd had no right to force upon Izuru.

Ichigo imagined that his lover's vice-captain had quite a lot of anger right now. And though he looked calm and thoughtful, a rage was brewing behind those gentle eyes. A fury that Hitsugaya was not going to live through. And the bastard knew it.

Izuru's face twisted again, but it was Gin who actually responded, his smiling lips for once pulled into an eerie frown. He stepped forward, one foot casually finding Hitsugaya's hand beneath his sandals. He gave no warning, merely stepped on the first finger. A very audible crunch echoed. He snapped the digit, ground it beneath his heel and watched as Hitsugaya gasped.

"I'd be careful what ya say there, little taichou-san," Gin warned in an almost cheery voice, very casually grinding his heel against the next finger with a satisfying snap. "We might think ya don't like us." He twisted his heel down on the third finger, crunching the bones beneath his sandal. The smile on Gin's face didn't change at all as he cheerily added, "And we came all the way from Izuru's house just to chat with ya." Finger four was now a mangled mess beneath his foot with the last phrase, until Hitsugaya's hand was twisted and gnarled.

The brat paled until his face was nearly translucent, sweat dotting his forehead and lip bleeding with the effort needed to hold back his cries of pain. "You could have saved yourself the trouble," he growled, sucking in a breath, "and just fucking died right there."

"Ya know ya should watch your language, little taichou-san," Gin chided, bending and putting one hand on his zanpakutou. He joggled Shinsou for good measure, enjoying each flinch the action procured. "Didn't yer grandmother teach ya manners?"

Ichigo snorted, one foot toeing at white hair playfully. "Obviously not," he countered. "If she's not dead already, she'd probably keel over from shame if she knew the truth."

Indignation flashed in blue-green eyes as Hitsugaya's face twisted in a new kind of fury. One that had nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with insult.

"Oh?" Ichigo tilted his head to the side as he noticed the look. "Did we make the little dragon angry?" He crouched down, elbows balanced on his knees. "This should cheer you up."

He glanced towards the former third division leaders, and in silent understanding, they released their zanpakutou and backed away. Ichigo smirked and charged up a kidoh to his fingers, watching as the power crackled and sparkled. Something inside of him cackled at the look of wariness on Hitsugaya's face before he ever so calmly placed the tip of his finger to Shinsou.

"_Byakurai_," Ichigo hissed, forcing his reiatsu into the spell.

Lightning crashed through his fingers and directly into the sword. He watched as it traveled down the metal length and surged into the boy-captain's body, causing him to jerk. A muffled groan escaped Hitsugaya's lips, but the spell wasn't complete yet. It traveled the short length of his body and found Wabisuke, climbing up the metal, only to expel itself out the hilt. The kidoh surged upwards and blasted against the ceiling, causing it to char and smoke. The three men were suitably impressed, Gin whistling in approval as he looked at the blackened ceiling.

Izuru hummed thoughtfully, hand on his chin. "I never thought to use kidoh in such a manner."

"Why, Ichigo," Gin chirped proudly, completely ignoring Hitsugaya's pained twitching. "You've been practicing. I didn't expect it ta do tha'. Did ya know it would?"

Ichigo shrugged, offhandedly inspecting his fingernails. "I got the idea from the geta-boushi. Thought I might try it out."

His lover chuckled in amusement. "Let me try," he requested, and then waited until Ichigo stepped back to press a finger to Shinsou. _"Byakurai!_" the former captain hissed, his kidoh slightly more powerful than Ichigo's had been.

It followed the same path as the spell before, blasting to the ceiling by the end and causing it to smoke faintly. The air crackled with reiatsu.

Hitsugaya spasmed, choking on his next breath. "Bastards," he spat, biting his bottom lip until a trail of blood ran down his chin. The fingers of his unbroken hand clenched into a fist, knees drawing up as if he was going to make an attempt to break free.

But with three sets of eyes on him, someone was bound to notice. Ichigo idly tossed a binding spell on the twitching brat. The glare he received when Hitsugaya's movements locked up amused something inside of him.

"No escapin' now," Gin chided. "We've not had our fun yet."

Ichigo turned towards Izuru. "Anything you'd like to try?" he offered, knowing that of all of them, Kira had the most anger and the most reason.

Izuru considered it, face perfectly blank. Ichigo knew the moment an idea had come to him by the glint in his eyes, something devious and perfectly suitable. He and Gin stepped back as Kira reached forward and jerked out Wabisuke, wiping the blood on the tip on Hitsugaya's haori.

Holding his zanpakutou loosely in his right hand, Izuru reached forward and toed aside Hitsugaya's haori and shihakushou, baring a pale chest.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hitsugaya demanded, his tone trying and failing to sound indignant. Instead, it held the faintest edges of fear.

Ichigo wrinkled his nose. "Not that," he replied, able to guess what the little captain's fear had been. "What kind of freaks do you think we are?"

Beside him, Izuru squared his jaw. "Besides, who'd want a nasty, little runt like you?" he questioned rhetorically. "_Omote o agero_," he muttered, releasing Wabisuke. There was a pulse of reiatsu as his zanpakutou elongated and changed shape, curving into the familiar hook of his shikai.

Izuru raised Wabisuke, reveled briefly in the flash of uncertainty he caught in Hitsugaya's eyes, and then slashed across the boy-captain's bare skin. He struck twice, crisscrossing the mark each time. Hitsugaya grunted as a heavy weight settled on his chest, equal to someone like Kuchiki Byakuya planted atop him. The worst of the feeling, however, was dissipated by Hitsugaya's reiatsu. Not that it mattered. Izuru was far from through.

Shaking his head, Gin inserted, "Yeah. I'm not into kiddies." He added with a salacious smirk towards his lover. "At least, not ones tha' look like kiddies. Ne, Ichigo?"

A slim hand snaked out, thin fingers cupping Ichigo's neck and tugging the younger Vizard towards him. Ichigo's hand slipped around Gin's waist as their lips met in a steamy kiss. It was brief, only serving to surprise their victim.

Hitsugaya's eyes widened. "So that's the price of your loyalty, Kurosaki?" he demanded, voice tight from the weight of his chest. "Doesn't surprise me that Ichimaru would whore himself out."

It was an insult he should not have spoken.

Izuru's lips twisted in feral anger and he slashed Wabisuke twice more, crisscrossing Hitsugaya's chest. The boy-captain's breath rushed out of him in a loud gasp, and by the wheezing in his throat, it was evident he was having difficulty capturing another. It must have felt as if Komamura was standing on him, every rib straining under the pressure. The snapped bone from before dug into his soft organs, and Hitsugaya hissed, his face covered in a sheen of sweat and painted in a red flush. From the part in his robes, they could see his flesh rapidly bruising, purple and scarlet, blood vessels bursting under the immense pressure.

Blinking, Gin looked up at his vice-captain. "I didn't know Wabisuke could do that."

Izuru smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "He can do all sorts of things."

Below them, Hitsugaya gasped and struggled to draw in a breath. "Oh?" he wheezed, face scrunched with pain but still somehow finding his stubborn pride. "Did that strike a nerve?" he taunted. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

Izuru's fingers tightened around Wabisuke as Ichigo moved forward, something dangerous flitting across his face. Hitsugaya plowed on, refusing to beg for his life or die like a dog. His eyes flickered to Ichigo, meeting the former substitute's gaze.

"Like taking Aizen's dirty seconds, Kurosaki?" he mocked, chest rattling as he spat up blood, the projectile falling sadly short of its mark. "And if rumors are to be believed, Aizen's not the only one. It's the one thing Ichimaru seems to be good at."

His words lashed through the room like a whip of stinging reiatsu. Gin visibly recoiled, face drawing tight with a bevy of emotions that were usually so well hidden. Izuru lifted his zanpakutou, but Ichigo thrust a hand in the vice-captain's direction, halting him. His eyes had gone entirely hollow, black and gold overtaking the brown until there was nothing but Shirosaki glinting from their depths.

Ichigo lowered further, balancing one arm on his knee and glaring down at Hitsugaya with evident hatred. "Someone doesn't know when to shut up," he murmured coolly, voice taking on a Hollow echo that sent a shiver down the bastard's back.

He jabbed two fingers of his free hand into the hole Wabisuke had left behind, burying both to the third knuckle. He locked gazes with the boy-captain as he scraped the digits inside, causing fresh blood to flow. Hitsugaya winced, trying to cringe away from the pain, but Ichigo refused to let him, curling his fingers into the wound and holding him in place.

Hitsugaya squirmed, breath coming in sharp pants as agony wracked his body. Ichigo played around for a good minute, watching blood seep onto the floor before he removed his hands, scarlet fluid dribbling free. Hitsugaya's eyes blearily watched the movement of his fingers as he traced them across the boy's face, leaving a garish streak across his cheek.

"Hmm," Ichigo rasped, drawing his fingers to his lips and licking the blood from them in a lewd manner. "A tasty little taichou," he commented, his free hand tracing over Hitsugaya's face. "Are you entirely sure you want to go there?" he asked, eyes flashing again and nails scraping down a pale cheek.

Fear was pulsing from the pinned captain in waves, giving Ichigo no small amount of pleasure. His entire body had stiffened, but Hitsugaya said nothing.

Ichigo smirked. "Thought so," he echoed, patting Hitsugaya in a patronizing manner. He licked the last few drops of blood from his fingers, noticing every hitch in Hitsugaya's breathing.

Certain he had gotten his point across, Ichigo rose to his feet, eyes on his lover. Gin had taken a few steps back, face flushed and hands clenched at his sides. Hurt simmered in his reiatsu, something beneath the surface that no one but Ichigo would probably notice. There was the barest tremble to his body, the only indication of his fluxing emotions.

It wasn't hard for Ichigo to guess why. It wasn't that Gin hadn't ever heard the rumors or that they were something new, but it was different when they were thrown in his face. Ichigo was aware enough of only some of what his lover had suffered through, but he could assume the rest. It wasn't pretty. And he didn't believe any of it for a second.

Gin noticed his approach but didn't say anything. Ichigo reached up, cupping the man's face and drawing it towards him.

"Hey," he whispered, voice still containing the ghostly echo, before he pulled his lover in for a kiss. It was both gentle and reassuring, his tongue sliding across Gin's lips and his reiatsu attempting to radiate calm.

The former captain relaxed, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Ichigo noticed the moment his hands unclenched. He considered it a victory.

With a parting nip that promised a return to affection later, Ichigo pulled back. "Love you," he added with a cocky grin.

He watched as his lover's face split into a genuine grin, eyes slitting open and revealing irises that had gone black and luminescent blue in his anger.

Like a man with a death wish, Hitsugaya's voice ruined the moment. "Fuckin'... pathetic," he wheezed on the end of a sneer.

It was the last he would have a chance to say. Izuru swung at the bastard's chest, creating a thin line of blood and at the same time doubling the pressure on his ribs. The sound of bones creaking and cracking filled the room, Hitsugaya's mouth falling open in a gurgling gasp.

"That one was loud," Gin commented, considerably cheerier than before. "The little taichou-san probably can't take much more. If it weren't for his reiatsu, he'd be dead already."

Ichigo snorted. "Then let's just end it," he stated coldly, dropping his hand from Gin's face and whirling back towards Hitsugaya. "I can't stand to look at him anymore."

He grabbed Shinsou, jerking it out of Hitsugaya's shoulder without warning. Blood flecked from the tip of the blade, spattering the floor in a garish plop. Zangetsu thrummed uneasily on his back, and Ichigo's fingers curled around Shinsou's hilt. He held the zanpakutou over Hitsugaya, poised to strike.

Eyes that once belonged to a friend and ally looked up at him defiantly. Hitsugaya would not beg for his life. Ichigo didn't want him to.

He wavered.

Ichigo could feel the fury rattling inside of him, could hear Shirosaki's encouraging hisses. He hated Hitsugaya; he really did. He wanted to see the boy-captain bleed, to show him what it truly meant to betray, but… he couldn't. His stomach clenched at the thought because Ichigo had never honestly killed before. Had never taken anyone's life. And though he wanted Hitsugaya's death, he balked.

Swallowing thickly, Ichigo's fingers tightened until they were white-knuckled, the room silent and carrying the faint odor of burned wood. He didn't know how long he stood there, poised on the edge of a decision, but with a shuddering breath, his shoulders finally collapsed.

His hand dropped to his side, Shinsou dangling loosely from his grip. "I can't do it," Ichigo muttered, nausea rolling in his belly as Shirosaki finally bled from his eyes, leaving him tired and worn.

Gin's fingers tickled at his palm as he reclaimed his zanpakutou. But it was Kira who actually broke the silence after his admission.

"That's okay," Izuru said, gaze locked on Hitsugaya, "because I can."

There was no pause of thought for Izuru. Wabisuke rose and fell in one last swipe, quick and efficient, across Hitsugaya's chest. An audible crunch and crack echoed through the room, the boy-captain's ribs finally exploding under the pressure. Hitsugaya's eyes widened as he coughed up a spurt of blood, the last hint of reiatsu glint dimming from his eyes in a matter of seconds.

Gin wrinkled his nose. "Ew," he muttered, stepping back from the spatter of blood that tried to claim his hakama.

Ichigo looked at Hitsugaya for a second more, face entirely unreadable before he whirled towards the door. He broke through Gin's sealing kidoh without a pause in his steps and was gone, door sliding shut behind him.

Watching his exit, Kira wiped the spurt of blood from his zanpakutou on Hitsugaya's haori and returned Wabisuke to his sheath. "Is he going to be all right?" Izuru asked, catching his captain's gaze.

Sliding Shinsou back into his sheath as well, Gin nodded. "What 'bout you?"

Izuru's eyes shifted back to Hitsugaya, lying prone on the floor as blood pooled around his body, staining his captain's haori. "Not yet," he said harshly, face twisting with anger and an echoing sense of discontent. "It's not enough. For everything... It's just not enough." He fell silent then, unable to express the continuous shifting of emotions inside of him.

Gin watched his lieutenant, understanding him perfectly, even without the words.

* * *

"I think you'd better hurry, ma'am," the seventh-seat informed her, practically breathless as he trotted at her side. "Hitsugaya-taichou seemed angry."

Matsumoto rolled her eyes, barely repressing a yawn. "Taichou's always angry," she commented with a dismissive wave of her hand. "What else is new?" Fingers tugged at her shihakushou, trying to get it to shift into proper position.

The seventh-seat stuttered, obviously at a loss, "B-but--"

Pausing in the midst of her stride, Rangiku whirled on the man, a smile painting her lips. "Do me a favor, hmm? Bring some tea to the taichou? It might calm him down." She winked flirtatiously, amused as he flushed a deep crimson and mumbled out some sort of agreement before darting away.

Matsumoto chuckled to herself. Terrorizing the lower seats never got old. So what if she was thirty minutes late for the summons? That was good for her. Hitsugaya-taichou would understand. It wasn't like she hadn't heard the warning clanks or the announcement of a fire, but chalking it up to Kurotsuchi again, she had figured it was something that could be handled in the morning. But only until the lower seat had knocked on her door unceasingly, forcing her to rise from a hangover-induced stupor. Whose bright idea was it for double-duty anyway? It was about time Yamamoto-soutaichou assigned new captains because the extra shifts were getting ridiculous.

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Rangiku briefly raked her eyes over the tenth division courtyard. It was deserted, everyone having scurried off to do their duties as they had been ordered.

Che, amateurs. They'd learn eventually.

Sliding open the door the tenth division headquarters, Matsumoto stepped inside and shut it behind her. It was dark, the usual lights left off. She frowned, thinking it odd. Perhaps Hitsugaya-taichou had a headache. Sometimes, he turned off the lights when he did, and she didn't mind since it meant she could sleep and ignore her paperwork. Her nose twitched, and there was a strong scent in the air, something metallic. But her somewhat alcohol-fogged mind couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Taichou?"

No one greeted her. Pouting since she hadn't been acknowledged for deigning to show up to work, Matsumoto strode to her captain's door. She rapped her fist against the paneling.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?" she sang. "Your lovable fukutaichou has shown up for work!"

Still, no response. She concentrated and felt trickles of his reiatsu inside. It felt weird though, kind of shadowy, like an echo. Matsumoto frowned, a tiny thread of unease curling inside of her, though she couldn't fathom why. She reached forward, sliding the door to her captain's office open. Normally, he would have said something by now, but maybe he was asleep. She practically grinned at that one. It would be perfect to catch him napping at his desk.

Her eyes met with more darkness, only a thin trickle from the window in the form of moonlight giving her any illumination. She could barely make out her captain sitting in his normal chair.

"Taichou, why're you just sitting in the dark?" Matsumoto asked, one hand sliding across the wall towards the light switch.

There was a click as she flicked it on.

* * *

In the midst of dressing, Kenpachi nearly snapped his obi in half when the piercing scream ripped through the night, echoing loudly enough to be heard in Hueco Mundo. It made his skin crawl and his back curl as it reverberated inside of him. His head whipped around, gaze focusing on the tenth division, which was somewhere outside his far wall.

The shriek abruptly cut off. And then, there was silence again, a terrible, uncomfortable silence that made his stomach churn. It was enough to make him hurry in dressing, throwing on the rest of his clothes and grabbing his haori and zanpakutou before heading outside. He hadn't even had a chance to put his hair up in the spikes, only pausing briefly to grab his eyepatch.

He wasn't the only one to have heard, others looking around in confusion. But Kenpachi was probably the only one who had identified the source. Next door, in the tenth division. He strode quickly to the main office, noticing the lack of lower seats in the courtyard and the gaping doors of the headquarters.

There were Shinigami in the doorway, all trying to press their way inside. Kenpachi frowned, eyes narrowing. He shoved his way between them.

"Get outta the damn way," he demanded gruffly, pushing aside a few, even as they backed away with horrified expressions on their faces.

Uneasiness joined the feeling of wrongness. He could hear the sound of retching, caught sight of some the younger members being comforted by their fellows in corners.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Kenpachi demanded, sweeping his gaze over them.

No one answered. Instead, he was met with a few vague points towards the captain's office. The door was wide open, more people milling and blocking the path.

Frowning, Kenpachi shoved his way through the crowd, pushing them to the side and ordering them to stay with a firm glare. They melted out of the way; from fear or respect, he didn't care. He elbowed one kid out of the doorway, where he stood with eyes wide and mouth open in frozen shock.

And then, the smell hit him, sharp and bitter. Freshly spilled blood. And lots of it. The first indication that something was seriously wrong. Kenpachi turned back toward the others before he even got a good look.

"Stay back," he ordered and grabbed the kid nearest to him, the one who looked the most collected. "Get the old fart," he commanded and then pointed to another. "Go get the fourth division."

They nodded but didn't move.

"Now!"

The two jumped and scurried away, sandals slapping against the floor. Kenpachi swept his one-eyed glare over the rest of the room, eyeing those remaining. They received his silent message and stepped back further, some even leaving the outer office entirely. Certain that he would be left alone, Kenpachi turned his attention to the open door where he had just managed to catch sight of a prone body lying on the ground. Auburn curls identified the form as Matsumoto on a glance. Her head was in a pool of blood. Kenpachi's eye widened as he lifted his gaze to the rest of the room.

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered, swallowing heavily and stepping further inside.

The room was painted a garish crimson, blood spattering the walls and the floor. Some of it still carried the slickness of being fresh, while smaller splatters had already dried. Kenpachi crouched to check Matsumoto's condition, finding that she was alive and uninjured, likely just unconscious. However, he couldn't help but lift his eyes back to the room and catalog all of the horrific details.

Something had scorched the ceiling twice, mixing the smell of copper with that of burned wood and ash. It looked as if someone had finger-painted with blood everywhere, leaving streaks and idle doodles. On the back wall, behind Hitsugaya's desk, words were scrawled in capital letters.

"Traitor!" practically screamed at him. And off to the side in a smaller, more scribbled script, "Orihime-chan sends her love."

But worse of all, the thing that truly churned his gut, was the sight of the tenth division captain. His body, for judging by the blood in the room and Matsumoto's unharmed state Kenpachi assumed he was dead, was sitting in his chair at his desk. As if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was even upright, though that might have had something to do with the fact that his sword was jabbed into his shoulder, through the length of his body until it drove into the seat behind him, keeping him vertical. As if he had merely been sitting with his zanpakutou sheathed as usual.

Empty blue-green eyes were open and staring at his doorway. Blood spattered the pale face, and Kenpachi could see two holes, one in either shoulder. The front of the captain's robes were gaping, giving him a glimpse of terribly bruised flesh beneath. It all spoke of torture, making him realize that there was more to the situation than he knew. Something that went beyond a little revenge and a little death.

Kenpachi felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he rose to his feet, bothered by the violence that had nothing to do with a good battle and everything to do with retaliation.

"Just what the hell is going on?" he demanded out loud.

But there was no one to respond to his query, just the silence and stillness of death.

* * *

Shunsui yawned, covering his mouth with his hand and reaching up with the other to hold his straw hat in place. It was so quiet out this early in the morning, barring the strange warning clanks he had heard earlier. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but it would soon, bringing with it dawn. The perfect time for Shunsui to crawl back into bed.

He had been at the fourth division, visiting his Jyuu-chan, who'd had an attack recently. He hadn't planned on leaving, but his best buddy had insisted. Shunsui never could deny him anything, even what seemed to be an unreasonable request.

Fatigue had settled into the eighth division captain's bones, but he wasn't going to lie down until he at least returned to his own bed. Then a short nap before returning the fourth. Perhaps he could convince Jyuu-chan to eat some of those sugared plums he liked so much.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught movement. Shunsui paused, following the motion. It was an odd place for random Shinigami to be about, a shortcut through a back alley that few knew about. There was a flutter of white above him, and he blinked, lifting his gaze.

There on the roof of the building in front of Shunsui stood two forms, dressed in slim white with hints of black. One even had shockingly orange hair and a rather familiar sword, possibly a large zanpakutou.

Shunsui blinked.

Was that Kurosaki-kun? They had been looking for him for two seasons now. And who was that with him?

Shunsui peered at the other, fingers scratching over his chin. And a second later, he was positively stunned, certain he had to be mistaken. Tall, silver-hair, unnaturally thin... was that _Ichimaru Gin_?

He looked again. Nope. They didn't change at all. And appeared to be talking. He watched as the figure-who-might-be-Ichimaru gestured to something in the distance. The other-figure-who-was-possibly-Kurosaki-kun nodded and lifted his hands. Shunsui felt a spike of reiatsu in the air, controlled and powerful and uncomfortably familiar, before he witnessed a kidoh spell burst from the-figure-who-was-Kurosaki-kun.

It sailed out of his line of sight, but he heard the explosion that resulted and caught sight of a burst of flame streaking into the sky from somewhere beyond the roof. He didn't know what they had destroyed, but considering Shunsui was still near the fourth, it had to belong to them.

He was further shocked when he caught sight of what appeared to be Ichimaru Gin kissing Kurosaki Ichigo. And even from a distance, he could tell it wasn't entirely chaste. And where were Ichimaru's hands going? Hell, he could practically feel the heat of their steamy embrace, and it had nothing to do with whatever they had just blown up.

But how and why?

It made no sense. One was a traitor; the other had been missing. And now, they both were here. Together. Blowing shit up. And kissing! Shunsui would have sworn he was drunk if it weren't for the fact that he knew he was sober.

All these years he had denied he drank too much. For the first time ever, Shunsui might have been willing to admit he had a problem.

They traded several more kisses and gropes, which made something flutter strangely in Shunsui's belly, before they flitted out of his sight. By then, it was too late for him to even think of doing something.

Without another word, Shunsui promptly turned around and walked right back to the fourth division. He needed Jyuu-chan's rationality. And a very strong drink.

* * *

"How long do you think he'll be there?" Izuru asked as Gin and Ichigo finally caught up to him. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the fourth division main storehouse burning.

Ichigo shrugged. "Who cares?" he muttered, flitting ahead and forcing the two to hop from roof to roof to keep up.

Gin, however, grinned. "Rangiku will find him 'for long." The look on his face was purely devious.

"If I remember correctly, the soutaichou is next?" Izuru questioned, a light flush staining his cheeks as he recalled the list he had briefly glanced over.

"His house, ta be accurate," Gin corrected, amusement filtering through as both younger men flushed, though for different reasons.

Ichigo shook his head. "Pervert," he accused with a note of fondness.

"What makes you think the soutaichou won't be home?" Izuru posed, face darkening in thought.

"With that explosion?" Ichigo inserted. "I doubt he'll be returning home anytime soon. Especially after they find Hitsugaya."

Ichigo paused, drawing to a halt on one of the higher rooftops and sweeping his eyes over Seireitei. He could see from this height that the first building he had set ablaze was already smoldering, and the second was already in the process of being extinguished. It wouldn't be long before someone found the brat either. Still, none of it seemed to faze him. He felt justified in it, Shirosaki cackling at the destruction.

"What're ya lookin' at?" Gin asked, stopping beside him.

Ichigo shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

* * *

a/n: _Kyoumon_ is the name of the kidoh Hitsugaya used to seal Hinamori in the hospital room that she eventually broke out of, it is a mirror spell. Effective at keeping things out but not in. The spell used here does the same thing, but it's far more powerful and helps to mask reiatsu.

Explanations for Izuru's anger comes after _The Twilight Hour_. It's the very next piece. More about the emotional aftermath to Ichigo and Gin will be in the next chapter. And the aftermath of the entire affair comes in Part IV of _The Twilight Hour_, the last part.

Yep, it got so long it had to be four parts.

In any case, I hope I didn't scare any readers away and I'm curious as to the reactions! So review! Lemme know what you thought! Thanks!


	15. The Twilight Hour Part III

a/n: Mixed reactions to the last part, just like I expected. Sorry guys. Someone had to be the villain, but I still adore Hitsugaya! Don't believe me? Read my other series! Also, warnings for this chapter include a warning for a lemon! Yep, this time around we finally see more than just teasing touches I've been giving you. So you are warned. There's stuff in here. Not too graphic since it is after all, but, hey, there's a reason it has a M rating.

Enjoy!

**Title: The Twilight Hour (Part Three)**

**Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Izuru, Byakuya, Renji, Rukia**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Yaoi, lemonish stuff, Language, Random Explosions**

**Words: 6,247**

**Description: Of warnings and destruction. Loose ends are tied and a pre-emptive strike is made. With the destruction of the cannon, their mission is complete.**

* * *

The old fart's house was deserted just as they had expected, most of the rooms darkened and empty. Not even servants stirred. It wasn't yet dawn, so they weren't surprised either. It would be hours before anyone would be up and about. They had plenty of time.

Leaving a faintly blushing Kira in the kitchen where he claimed he would amuse himself, Gin and Ichigo completed a brief tour of the old man's expansive quarters. Far more than a geezer like him deserved. They found the office, making a mental note to pilfer his files before discovering the bedroom last; it even had its own door to a private garden.

They stepped inside, Gin whistling at the size of the room. "Didn' think it paid tha' well," he commented, admiring the huge bed with its plush comforter and huge sliding doors that completely lined one wall.

Ichigo closed the door behind them, raising his eyebrows. "I'll bet Aizen's room is better."

"Cept for the view," Gin responded, thinking of the white sand and dead trees that were visible from pretty much anywhere in Las Noches.

Ichigo could concede that point. He watched as his lover took a step into the room, seeming so very casual but inwardly seething. Emotions were boiling inside of him, reminding him of all his insecurities. Ichigo had quickly grown to recognize when Gin was faking and when his smiles were real. His amusement right now was forced.

Stepping out of his waraji, Ichigo moved forward and wrapped his arms around Gin's waist, an easy feat considering the man's slimness. He pressed his forehead to Gin's shoulder blade, unable to rest his chin comfortably on the man's shoulder due to their difference in height. He felt his lover stiffen momentarily before relaxing into the embrace.

"I know it's not true," Ichigo said without needing to elaborate. "And so do you."

There was a minute before Gin responded, "Yeah, I know."

Ichigo's palm rubbed across Gin's stomach, fingers teasingly plucking at the pale blue obi but not yet untying the knot. "Then, you shouldn't let it bother you."

There was a snort. "And what was that? Defendin' my honor?"

Before Ichigo could even respond, they heard the faint sound of a crash and subsequent shatter. However, since it wasn't followed by a cry for help or anything similar, they weren't worried. It was just Izuru doing his best to mess up Yamamoto's kitchen and rifle through his belongings. Ichigo vaguely remembered the vice-captain mumbling something about onigiri with a faint blush staining his cheeks.

"Nah, you can do that for yourself," Ichigo finally finished. "But no one gets to say those kinds of things about you." His face darkened in a mixture of disgust and regret as he thought about what Hitsugaya had said, hating himself for being unable to kill the bastard. He might as well have given the boy captain the go ahead to insult his lover.

Sensing the change in Ichigo's tone, Gin turned around, slitted eyes searching the younger man's face. "It's alright that ya didn' kill 'im," he murmured, able to guess what was running through the teenager's mind.

"I should have," Ichigo muttered in response, fingers unconsciously tightening their grasp on Gin's waist. "I hated him. I wanted to." Disgust with himself poured into his expression. "I just couldn't."

"That's cause yer not a murderer. It's diff'rent fer Izuru-chan. Personal. Even more so than fer you," Gin responded easily, not blaming him in the slightest.

He had known from the moment they had decided to pay Hitsugaya a visit that Ichigo wouldn't be able to kill the boy-captain. Ichigo was still very young, despite what he had endured, and there were some lessons he'd yet to learn. He was far off from being able to kill someone in cold blood. If it weren't for Shirosaki's influence, Gin wasn't even certain the boy would have been able to pull off some of the torture.

Ichigo was still new to everything. To Soul Society and their methods. To what a Shinigami would do as their duty. To the types of things one would do to survive through Rukongai. And some of it, Gin was glad that his Ichigo had never experienced and never would.

It was something he cherished in Ichigo, that tiny spot of innocence. Something he had all to his own that no one else could ever touch. It wasn't an innocence of naiveté either, rather of inexperience. As if he were Gin's for the teaching.

Ichigo sighed, finally dragging his eyes from their staring contest with the floor. "Yeah, you're right. As always." The last was added with some disgruntlement, the teenager only grudgingly admitting it.

"Cause I'm smart like that," Gin chirped victoriously.

Brown eyes rolled as Ichigo rose up and kissed him, effectively ending the uncomfortable discussion. Gin was more than willing to drop it, not wanting to remember the past and driving Hitsugaya to the back of his mind. He wasn't worth another moment of thought.

The kiss was brief as Ichigo pulled back, gaze darkening and familiar smirk dancing on his lips. "Ready to defile the old man's bed?" he asked, reaching with one hand to remove Zangetsu and lay his zanpakutou against the wall.

"O'course. S'was my idea, wasn't it?" Gin snickered, briefly entertaining thoughts of the old bastard's horrified face when he came home to discover his office and kitchen trashed with his bedroom mussed.

"Mmm." Ichigo grabbed his robes and dragged him closer for another kiss, hands busily working at Gin's clothes. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled, mouth moving to plant soft kisses on the pale throat in front of him. "You wear so many damn layers," he complained good-naturedly.

Thin hands lifted to help him, pulling off the first few layers and carefully setting Shinsou to the side, right next to Zangetsu. "Cause it amuses me ta watch ya struggle," Gin informed him, dipping his head to capture his lover's lips again.

Clothes slithered to the floor, dropping in graceless piles. Gin's hand paused in dip into the pocket of his hakama before it, too, dropped to the floor, leaving him entirely nude. He slipped his tongue against Ichigo's lips, nibbling gently and pressed the small glass vial into his lover's hand.

"Later," Ichigo informed him, trailing his lips to the pale skin in front of him as he blindly tossed the bottle onto the bed behind him. "Taste first." To prove his point, his teeth grazed across Gin's collarbone.

The former captain chuckled, one hand busily untying Ichigo's hakama so that it joined the rest of their clothing on the floor. Deft fingers located his lover's arousal, tracing the rising length with a teasing touch. When Ichigo shivered, mouth engaged in tasting skin, Gin cupped the stiffening organ and stroked deftly. His other hand settled on Ichigo's hip, drawing him closer.

Ichigo groaned, pressing against him, hands on Gin's side. They slid around the thinner man, palming his back. Questing lips planted a kiss in the direct center of Gin's chest as calloused fingers traced down his spine, the man's skin cool but warming quickly under his touch. It had surprised Ichigo at first, how his lover was always cold. But Ichigo also learned just how quickly he could warm him and took full advantage of that fact.

Thin fingers stroked at his arousal, causing Ichigo's skin to prickle with rising desire. He dragged his mouth back upwards, sucking at the hollow of Gin's throat where he had come to learn the man was particularly sensitive. His own hands were no less busy, wrapped around Gin and pulling their bodies together.

A distraction in the form of a very familiar sound had them breaking apart, the sound of alerting clanks ringing through Seireitei. These were much louder and insistent than the small ones raised after the buildings had been set ablaze. It was pretty easy to deduce why.

Ichigo tipped his head to the side. "They found the little taichou," he murmured, one hand cupping Gin's ass. "Means we have plenty of time." He pressed a kiss to the bony shoulder in front of him.

His lover laughed, placing his hands on Ichigo's hips and slowing grinding them together in a move that made the teenager's breathing quicken. "How true, Ichigo."

They lazily kissed again, tongues briefly tangling before Ichigo drew away.

"On the bed," he ordered in a faintly bossy tone, eyes admiring the plush look to the furniture.

Gin's lips split into a wide grin. "Should I call ya taichou?" he teased, finding that hint of command in his lover's tone to be both cute and arousing.

Ichigo flushed, a part of him hating that Gin could still make him do it. "I didn't mean it like that," he countered, watching as Gin did as he was told, pushing the oil aside and sitting on the bed. "Pervert."

The older man merely chuckled again and laid back against the sheets, lifting his brows in surprise at the pure comfort; it was so unfair. Then, he felt the eyes on him, Ichigo looking him over appreciatively.

"You barely make a dent," the teenager commented with some amusement, kneeling on the mattress. He bent over, pressing a kiss to Gin's belly and right over a scar of some kind that Ichigo wasn't learned enough to identify.

Gin sighed, able to feel the warm breath against his skin. "Don' I?" he questioned in a murmur.

Lips moved over Gin's belly, tongue tracing over scars, new and old. There were a few Ichigo could recognize. The claw marks of a Hollow, which curved around his ribs on the right. The light and thin slices of zanpakutou. Burn marks over his left hipbone that weren't from kidoh but something else. Kidoh burned too cleanly to leave that type of raised and puckered scar; Ichigo had learned that lesson the hard way.

Ichigo kissed them anyway, knowing how self-conscious Gin was about them. He never asked, however, about any of the man's scars. Gin wasn't ready to tell him, and Ichigo wasn't really ready to hear. His lover always squirmed when he mouthed them, never understanding why Ichigo did.

"Mmm." Ichigo made a noncommittal sound in his throat, hand stroking the outside of Gin's legs where there were no scars. "Rich old bastard doesn't need a good bed like this. Wasted on him."

His fingers shifted, trailing over pale skin and sneaking to the inside of Gin's thigh, legs parting to grant him room. He nibbled on the man's ribs, deftly avoiding the faint swat that Gin threw at him. It was a ticklish spot that he felt he always had to attack, payback for the teasing that made him blush.

"You look good on it," he added, moving his mouth to a location more suited to arousal than tickling, tongue flicking over a nipple.

Fingers tangled in orange hair. "You'd look better," Gin countered, a purring hum to his voice that didn't hide his desire.

Ichigo lifted his head, crawling the rest of the way onto the bed and hovering over Gin, hands on either side of his head. "Are you fishing for compliments?" he inquired with a smile. "Cause you know you don't have to ask."

Before Gin could respond, he captured the older man's lips. His lover's tongue slithered into his mouth, prompting a tangling of tongues that was more wet and sloppy than anything else. Those deftly skilled hands roamed onto Ichigo's body, flicking and fluttering touches that grazed over his skin. Gin brushed over his nipples, his palms smoothing over Ichigo's much broader hips. The teenager's skin heated, an aroused flush painting his chest and neck. One hand curved around him, cupping his ass. The tip of one long finger teased between his cheeks. For a moment, Ichigo envied Gin. Everything about his lover was long and slender, always seeming so frail were it not for the strength Ichigo knew he held.

Blindly groping, Ichigo searched for the oil he had tossed onto the bed, which Gin had moved somewhere in the vicinity of his head. His grasping fingers couldn't seem to find it, however, and a growl of frustration gurgled in his throat.

"Anxious are we?" Gin teased.

Ichigo crooked a grin. "And you're not?" he posed, pulling back until he was straddling Gin, knees pressing against the mattress.

His eyes flickered over the bed, finally catching sight of the small vial, which had just been out of his reach. It figured. He stretched out an arm, grabbing the bottle and scooting back down until he was perched over Gin's thighs.

"I'd be lyin'," the man responded, reaching for Ichigo, who was busily uncorking the bottle.

Ichigo pushed his hand away. "My turn," he said, drizzling some of the clear and odorless liquid onto his fingers.

He had scowled for days the first time Gin had brought him strawberry-scented oil, not even wanting to know how the man had gotten it. Though he strongly suspected the geta-boushi. That damn pervert.

Conceding, Gin merely smiled and watched him with slitted eyes, a glint of red visible beneath a fall of silver hair. Ichigo's hand moved to Gin's arousal, efficiently slicking it in the oil. The man groaned, his hips unconsciously jerking upwards but having nowhere to go with Ichigo's weight on his thighs.

He watched in appreciation as Ichigo then rose to his knees, drizzling more of the oil onto his hands. He capped the bottle one-handed and tossed it to the floor near their pile of clothes. He reached back, displaying amazing flexibility, which Gin had taken advantage of on more than one occasion, smearing some inside himself.

It was a display that never failed to arouse Gin. "I love it when ya do tha'," he whispered, sneakily sliding his hands to Ichigo's waist, half-waiting to see if there would be a protest.

But there wasn't, Ichigo too busy dealing with the blush that threatened to burn his face. Gin's thumbs stroked over his hipbones as the teenager prepared himself quickly and then shifted forward. He poised himself over Gin, reaching between them and positioning his lover. The hands on his hips were a welcome and steadying presence as Ichigo sank down, feeling only the faintest burn and stretch.

Ichigo gasped, sucking in a breath as he lowered. He could feel his skin flush with heat, stopping only when Gin was completely seated within him. His hands found Gin's waist for balance as he paused, letting his body adjust in its mad clenching around what it considered an intrusion.

His hands slid down Gin's side, mentally measuring the man's waist and reminding himself how easily it was to hold him with his fingers. The former captain was so thin that Ichigo had once been afraid of breaking him; he outweighed Gin by a good twenty pounds, if not more. Then, he had realized that Gin was stronger than him and probably always would be. It was more likely that the man would break him and not the other way around. Besides, it wasn't Gin's physical strength he had to concern himself with. It was the vulnerability that didn't show on the outside, a fragility of his trust. Despite the smiles and his supposed propensity for blood and violence, Gin was very insecure, and Ichigo had learned to recognize that.

Thin fingers pressed into the skin of his hips, and Ichigo began to move, rocking his hips slowly. He could feel Gin moving inside of him, and a warmth pooled in his belly. He watched as an attractive flush spread across his lover's chest, like a full body blush that couldn't be avoided, given his skin tone.

Gin responded to his pace, hips jerking upwards to meet each downwards push until they were working together in an arousing rhythm. It felt so good, the pressure inside of him that sent goosebumps all over his body, both cold and hot. Ichigo shivered, heart rate picking up. He idly chewed on his bottom lip as he sucked in a ragged breath, grinding down. Gin's hands were strong on his hips, helping him to rise and fall.

The former captain drew up his knees for leverage, tipping Ichigo forward. "Kiss me," he requested, voice hitching on the end of an aroused moan as Ichigo clenched around him.

Ichigo couldn't exactly deny him, not as the change in position ratcheted up the pleasure. He licked his lip and leaned down, Gin tilting his head to meet him. The soft kiss quickly turned wet and hungry, Ichigo's palms slapping to the sheets for balance. He felt Gin's fingers wrap around his seeping organ, beginning to stroke him. Ichigo moaned into the kiss, taking on a faster rhythm.

His knees dug into the bed, which didn't make a sound beneath their activities. Che, the old bastard really didn't need something this good. But Ichigo pushed all thoughts of the captain-commander far from his mind, instead concentrating on the here and now.

His hands curled into the covering, the low burning in his belly an increasing presence. Ichigo didn't even try to hold back, just allowed the sensations to wash over him. The touch of those fingers, surprisingly callous free, on his hip. The feel of Gin inside of him, each rolling thrust designed to make him moan. The taste of Gin on his lips, a mix of strawberry and something else, making him realize that his lover had been eating those damned candies again. He knew that Gin did it just to tease him.

Rather than prolong everything, despite how much he wanted to, Ichigo knew they were under a time limit. He let his orgasm wash over him as it crested inside and splattered on Gin's belly and hand. He clenched around Gin's arousal, dropping his lips from the man's mouth and seeking out the sensitive spot beneath his ear. He tongued it ruthlessly, Gin moaning a slithered collection of syllables that was probably his name.

Gin's hand tightened on his hip, joined by the other sticky one, pulling Ichigo down to meet his thrusts. He jerked, managing a few more before climaxing messily inside his lover. His hand abandoned Ichigo's hip, fingers cupping Ichigo's face and directing it back towards his lips.

They kissed lazily and sloppily, Ichigo dropping down on top of Gin. The older man's hand, still somewhat sticky, settled on Ichigo's back, fingers tracing up and down his spine. It was warm and cozy, their heightened breathing the only sound in the room.

Ichigo nosed under Gin's chin, gently extracting himself until they were laying side by side. His tongue flicked across the throat in front of him as he tugged his lover into his arms, knowing that Gin was a secret cuddler. It was part of the whole vulnerability bit.

Not that Ichigo really minded this part of it. Gin's arms were warm and soft around him, despite all the sharp angles. And the man's breath ruffled his hair as he breathed deeply and then exhaled with a whisper, a murmur so faint Ichigo couldn't quite make out the words.

The sound of the alarm clanks in the distance barely pierced the post-sex haze as Ichigo waited for his heart to return to a normal pace. He forced his body to realize that there really wasn't time for a second round, despite the interest the rest of him seemed to be showing.

There was a knock on the door. "Taichou?" Izuru's voice pierced the wood, obviously hesitant.

"I think it's for you," Ichigo murmured with a chuckle, breath puffing against Gin's throat.

Gin squeezed his ass. "I thought ya were the taichou?"

Huffing, Ichigo gently bit down on the neck in front of him, causing Gin to merely laugh. "Be right out, Izuru-chan."

There was a pause. Ichigo could practically see the blond's flush through the door.

"I didn't interrupt, did I?"

Ichigo snorted and buried his face in Gin's shoulder. "A little late for that."

Grinning, Gin lazily traced a finger down Ichigo's back. "Yer fine," he answered.

"Alright." Izuru sounded relieved. "I'll be waiting in the main room." They heard the sounds of his feet padding down the hall.

Ichigo sighed. "Guess that's our cue."

"We still hafta destroy the cannon," Gin reminded him, though he felt much the same. The old geezer's bed was way too comfortable.

Shifting, Ichigo pulled away, wrinkling his nose briefly at the sticky mess that would have to be cleaned first. "But a certain Kuchiki is next," he added.

"O'course."

They lazily shared another kiss before forcing themselves out of the bed. There was still a lot to do. Daybreak would be coming soon, cutting down on how much time they had for concealment. There would be time for a second round later, and Ichigo fully intended to take it.

* * *

It wasn't even dawn, and Byakuya already felt as if he were ready for the day to be over. Having been roused from his bed a few hours earlier because of the strange and random explosions in Seireitei, he was not in a good mood. Worst of all, he wasn't returning to his house to find sleep again but because he had forgotten his gloves in his rush to leave earlier. His day had started at five this morning, and it probably wasn't going to end until long after the sun set. He was not looking forward to it.

Stepping quickly through his silent house, Byakuya mused on the current events. After the third explosion, they had ceased believing it was purely coincidence. All of Seireitei was beginning to rouse now, Yamamoto-soutaichou commanding that every division go on alert and search for the perpetrators. Initial beliefs were that the traitor Aizen was behind the attack, but since no sightings had been made, there was no confirmation.

It was the low murmur of conversation that roused Byakuya from his thoughts, causing his eyes to narrow in suspicion. It was too early for the servants to have arrived, and one of the voices sounded familiar. Ahead of him, the light from the dining room was casting an orange rectangle into the hall. When he had left earlier, all of the lights had been off.

On alert now, Byakuya placed one hand on Senbonzakura and approached the dining room. He heard laughter and male voices, possibly two separate ones. Then, he was standing in the doorway. His eyes widened in surprise as he gaped inwardly at the sight.

"Kurosaki Ichigo?" he stated, voice a mixture of confusion and surprise. He was too shocked to even be indignant at the invasion to his home.

Ichigo took a bite of what appeared to be onigiri and then stood, swallowing. "Yo, Byakuya," he responded with a salute. "Nice to see you again."

Blinking, Byakuya flicked his gaze around, catching sight of Kira-fukutaichou also present for some reason. Logic escaped him.

"What are you doing here?"

He never received an answer. In that moment, something struck him across the back of the head. It was a blunt, sharp pain. Byakuya grunted as darkness swallowed him whole. And then, he knew nothing.

* * *

"I think you hit him too hard," was the first thing that pierced through Byakuya's bleary conscious.

He stirred sluggishly, peeling his eyes open and shifting where he lay. He belatedly realized that he was in a bed of some kind, and on further inspection, it was his own. His head ached, a dull throb in the back of his skull. He was alive, but something... something was missing. There was an emptiness inside of him.

It took him several seconds to register that he could no longer feel his reiatsu. Or any others. His eyes widened, and he bolted upright, gaze falling to the foot of this bed. He was being watched by three pairs of eyes, recognition dawning on the last.

Ichimaru Gin. He should have known.

Grey eyes narrowed. "You sealed my reiatsu?" he demanded coldly, forcing himself to regain his Kuchiki pride and clam.

Ichigo smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nope," he replied in a voice that was far too smug for his age. "We severed it."

Byakuya felt something inside of him go cold, and his thoughts turned inwards. He searched himself for Senbonzakura's calming presence, her lilting voice. But he heard nothing. Felt nothing. Where there was once a warm thrum of his reiatsu and power, there was nothing but emptiness.

He must have paled, judging by the expressions on their faces. A disconcerted emotion swept through him, warring with nausea and anger. He angrily flicked his eyes to the three people at the base of his bed.

_"Kisama_," he hissed in Ichimaru's direction before turning the full potent of his glare on Ichigo. "Joined Aizen, have you, Kurosaki?" he demanded viciously, fingers curling.

Here, he was, entirely helpless in front of his enemies. They must have been mocking him for his lack of power. Certainly, Gin's smirk seemed like it. It filled him with a cold anger, which warred loudly with the overwhelming and clenching sorrow of emptiness.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I think that's fairly obvious."

"Why?" Byakuya bit out. "Do the lives of my sister and my lieutenant mean that little to you? Obviously, Hitsugaya's did."

The teenager drew up straight. "The little bastard brought it upon himself." Ichigo sneered, face tightening with anger. "If you really want to know, I'd suggest asking your boss. See if he'll tell you the truth." He paused, lips curling into a smirk. "Not that he's really your boss anymore."

"Yeah," Gin chimed in, grin widening. "Hard to be taichou when you ain't got no powers. But don worry, Kuchiki-hime. At least, ya got yer family to fall back on. Not all of us're so fortunate."

Byakuya felt himself deflate bit by bit and struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Why did you not just kill me?"

"Because I honestly don't want you dead," Ichigo responded, much to the Kuchiki heir's surprise. "You're not my enemy. I have no quarrel with you. Just the organization you work for."

Falling silent, Byakuya found the sense of emptiness nearly overwhelming. Like he had lost something important that he could never regain, a part of himself having been torn away. He kept asking himself if there was something he should remember, only realized it was just the gaping chasm inside of him. Senbonzakura was gone from him forever. He had never felt so abandoned in his entire life. Not even when Hisana had died had it hurt this much.

He barely noticed when Ichigo nodded towards Ichimaru and Kira or when the two left the room. Ichigo, however, remained behind.

Byakuya looked at the boy he had fought on more than occasion, those brown eyes meeting with his.

"For what it's worth," Ichigo said quietly. "I'm sorry." He raised his hand.

Byakuya had only a second before the sleeping kidoh hit him. And then, he knew nothing.

Ichigo watched the Kuchiki heir slump to the bed with an expressionless face. He sighed under his breath, stepping around and adjusting Byakuya's position. Otherwise the man would wake with a terrible crick in his neck, and well, Ichigo didn't really hate Byakuya. But he also didn't want to have to fight him again. What better way to get his point across than to steal his powers?

Turning away from the bed, Ichigo didn't look back as he left Byakuya's home. Gin and Izuru were waiting for him on the roof. His lover idly watched one of the buildings burn in the distance, while Kira fidgeted with the bag he had brought. Within was more of the onigiri he had made at the old fart's house.

"What's next?" The vice-captain asked as Ichigo stepped lightly onto the tiled rooftop.

Gin smiled as he turned around, ignoring the wind that was beginning to stir, whipping at their clothing. It would make putting out the fires quite difficult for the Shinigami.

"Now we create a lil mayhem."

"And we start by destroying the cannon," Ichigo added.

Izuru frowned in thought. "The one they were creating to fire on Hueco Mundo?"

Shifting his foot against the tiles, Ichigo nodded. "That's the one. Do you know where it's at?"

"No." The blond shook his head. "They've been very quiet about it. How did you even know?"

Gin grinned, sharing a look with his lover. "Oh, we've our ways."

The teenager snorted, raking a hand over his hair. "More like the geta-boushi does."

Izuru blinked. "Geta-boushi?"

"Urahara Kisuke," Gin explained. "He invaded Hueco Mundo a coupla months ago."

"Does this happen often?" Kira couldn't help but ask, especially considering the blasé tone his captain had just used.

Gin just smiled, prompting Ichigo to intervene.

"Enough talk. There's a cannon that needs exploding."

* * *

Ichigo felt a migraine threatening to throb at his temples with just one glance at the twelfth division. There were warehouses everywhere, lined up in neat little rows and looking exactly the same. The same size, the same markings. He didn't even know how they told them apart when they weren't even numbered.

He paused on top of the division headquarters and glared at the collection of warehouses, even the destruction they'd left in their wake not enough to chase away the annoyance. It figured that Urahara's former division would make things difficult.

They had yet to be caught, which probably had to do with the random structures in burning ruins behind them. Ichigo had allowed his reiatsu leak in random locations, just to confuse people. He idly wondered if Rukia and Renji were somewhere in the madness they had left behind. Then, he promptly pondered why he cared and pushed their existence to the back of his mind.

In front of them, they could see a lightening of the horizon. The sun was slowly beginning to rise, and soon, they would lose the cover of darkness. Not that it mattered. They were nearly finished.

There was a small clatter as Gin and Izuru landed beside him. Ichigo paused in his glaring to glance behind him, able to see three or four places where fires were still burning strongly. The faint sound of shouts could be heard, and he knew that the alarms were increasing in number. Very soon, the whole of Seireitei would be awake, probably wondering what manner of army had decided to attack.

Ichigo smirked at that.

An army of two. Three if he counted Izuru. That was really all Aizen needed to send Seireitei into a panic.

He flickered his attention to Gin, his lover smiling broadly. "Which building is it?"

Thin hands dove into his robes, and Gin pulled out a paper, handing it over, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Somewhat wary, Ichigo took the sheet and unfolded it. He glanced at the crude drawing of scribbled boxes, one of which had a huge "X" over it. There were words scrawled off to the side, and he peered closer. "It's this one!" was printed there in English, along with a self-portrait of a grinning Urahara.

Ichigo scowled, turning the sheet this way and that. "I can't read this damn map," he said with frustration.

Chuckling, Gin plucked it from his hand and turned it right side up. Or at least, what Ichigo assumed was supposed to be right side up. His brow furrowed. Kira leaned closer, also peering at the sheet of paper. Blue eyes glanced from the "map" to the compound and back again.

"I think it's that one," Izuru finally hazarded a guess, gesturing vaguely to the cluster of buildings to their right.

"How can you tell?" Ichigo demanded, cursing under his breath. "Stupid geta-boushi. I'm gonna hit him with that fan, Aizen's special friend or not."

Gin's grin widened as he shook his head. "If I could take a guess?"

Sighing, Ichigo crumpled the paper and threw it over his shoulder. "Be my guest, but just in case, we'll take out a few more. Like half." He paused, the irritated look melting into an amused smirk. "It's just the twelfth, not like anyone will care. Serves Urahara right, giving me a crappy map."

Amusement flickered onto Gin's face before he leapt into the air, hovering over the warehouses. A quick shunpo took him to the left cluster. He paused, sweeping his gaze over the clump of buildings beneath him before selecting one. Ichigo felt a brief swell of reiatsu before his lover's voice wafted to him.

"_Kitsune-bi_."

Ichigo should have known.

He watched as Gin's favorite kidoh curled from his fingers, a huge and cresting fire that gradually morphed itself into the form of a fox. The flaming mouth stretched open as it crashed against the side of the building as if planning on devouring it whole. There was an echoing smash and creak before the warehouse suddenly exploded with a spurt of blue-white fire. Ichigo caught sight of a flicker of tail before the spell vanished.

"Nice," the teenager remarked, even as Izuru gave a nod of appreciation.

He flitted up to join his lover in the air, picking a suitable target. Shirosaki surged inside of him as he fired three spells in succession, slamming into a trio of buildings nearby. They exploded on impact, and from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Izuru already selecting his own victim.

Within minutes, half of the twelfth's warehouses were burning, internal explosions making the blaze rise higher and higher into the sky. Volatile chemicals were only adding to the kidoh-induced destruction.

"Kurosaki-san."

At the sound of the vice-captain's voice, Ichigo turned. Izuru pointed to one of the structures Ichigo had struck and what appeared to be a large cannon visible beneath the collapsing roof. They had found it.

Just to be certain, Ichigo drew Zangetsu. Gin moved a pace behind him and Kira out of his line of fire as he allowed his reiatsu to flow a bit more freely than before.

Tightening his grip around the hilt of his sword, Ichigo allowed Shirosaki to take part in the destruction. "_Getsuga tenshou__!_"

He swung his zanpakutou, the burst of concentrated reiatsu sliced through the air and slammed into the warehouse. It promptly exploded in a startling display of energy and dust, leaving only a small crater behind.

"Oops," Gin chirped, gathering Ichigo's attention as he returned Zangetsu to his back. He was waving down at some Shinigami who were pointing up at the three of them. "Time ta get goin'."

They had gathered a sizable crowd it seemed.

"Che. We're done anyway," Ichigo responded, uninterested in engaging the lower Shinigami; they wouldn't have been any challenge at all.

At the edge of his senses, however, he suddenly felt two rather familiar people flitting their way. He had half a mind to ignore their presence until Urahara's words filtered to the back of his brain. As much as the geta-boushi irritated him, Ichigo grudgingly admitted that the pervert was usually right about these sorts of things.

He gestured to Gin and Izuru, gathering their attention. "We can't leave just yet. We've got visitors."

Izuru furrowed his brow and concentrated. His eyes widened when he recognized the reiatsu.

Gin merely grinned. "Let's surprise 'em."

Seconds later, they appeared directly in front of Renji and Rukia, causing both to grind to a halt lest they slam right into the three traitors. Ichigo stood at the front, Gin and Izuru at his back. He waited for their reactions before he spoke, part of him taking some amusement out of their shock.

Behind him, Gin was already opening the Garganta, fingers dancing in the air before the sky ripped open. The darkness of Hueco Mundo could be seen just beyond as Gin stood before it, simply waiting for his companions to leave with him.

Renji blinked in astonishment. "Izuru?" he spluttered. "What are you--"

"Idiot, what are you doing!" Rukia demanded, confusion and outrage written onto her delicate features. Her hand rested on Sode no Shirayuki, as if she couldn't decide whether to draw or not. "We've been worried sick about you!"

Izuru shook his head. "You wouldn't understand, Abarai-kun."

"Ya aren't a traitor," Renji argued, his eyes flickering between the three of them. "I know ya. And… you're not a traitor."

"No, I'm not," Izuru agreed, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger. "But they betrayed me first. Goodbye, Abarai-kun." He disappeared into the Garganta without a backwards look.

Clearly at a loss, Renji turned towards Ichigo, the teenager he had thought he was friends with. "Ichigo?"

But Ichigo's eyes were on Rukia. "I'm not stupid, bitch," he growled under his breath, watching as she blinked and took a step back. He turned away from them and stepped towards the Garganta. "And if you want to know why, ask the fuckin' old man. My purpose here is over."

"But--"

Their words fell on ears that were no longer listening. Ichigo was already stepping into the Garganta after Izuru.

Gin beamed brightly at the two, waving cheerily. "Bye-bye!" he chirped, disappearing within as well.

Rukia and Renji were left gaping as Gin closed the Garganta behind him with a flick of his wrist.

* * *

A/N: One more part to go! At least, in _The Twilight Hour_, that is. There's still a hefty bit of the story left. At least ten more plotty parts, and who knows how many side stories.

I hope you liked it! I look forward to your comments!


	16. The Twilight Hour Part IV

a/n: Warning for another one of those lemony things you guys enjoyed last time. Ah, and this is the final piece of _The Twilight Hour_. Though the series isn't quite done yet. Enjoy!

**Title: The Twilight Hour (Part Four)**

**Characters: Ichigo/Gin, Izuru, Sousuke, Byakuya, Urahara, Stark, Gotei 13**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Lemony-limeish Slash, Language**

**Words: 4948**

**Description: Of adrenaline and discoveries. The aftermath of Gin and Ichigo's visit hits Soul Society hard as they struggle to understand what happened. **

* * *

The moment Gin stepped into the halls of Las Noches, fingers clutched onto his robes and pushed him up against the wall. His body tensed for an attack until he recognized the scent of his lover, and he relaxed. That was seconds before lips were pressed against his hungrily, a tongue shoving into his mouth and tangling with his.

Gin moaned, hands rising to tangle in Ichigo's hair as his lover dropped his hands, grabbing Gin's hips and grinding their bodies together. He loved it when Ichigo was aggressive like this, adrenaline-pumped and wanting, all sense of embarrassment and restraint abandoned. It made his own lust multiply as he was ravaged, an edge of hunger and violence flavoring their coupling.

His body eagerly responded, arousal lengthening in desire. Ichigo groaned as he dove into Gin's neck, hungrily nipping and licking at the pale skin. He left little red marks in his wake, unable to get enough of his lover.

A voice attempted to break through the lusty haze. "Ano... taichou?" Izuru said tentatively, rather red in the face.

"Good luck getting their attention," Stark drawled, suddenly appearing out of the shadows as most of Hueco Mundo residents seemed fond of doing.

Izuru jumped in surprise, whirling to face the stranger. He nearly dropped his pack as he stared at the Espada who towered over him by a good half-head, the smirk on his face lazy and assured.

The brunet lifted a surprised brow. "My, you're a cute one," he commented, much to Izuru's embarrassment.

He spluttered, searching for something to counter with as the sounds of lips smacking and groping hands continued just behind them. Then, he heard footsteps heading their direction down the hallway.

"Stark, don't tease Izuru-kun," Aizen chastised, lips drawing into an amused smile as he strode towards them. He was accompanied by Urahara, whose geta made an annoying clack-clack with every step. Aizen still hadn't been able to convince the man to switch to a pair of much quieter waraji.

Izuru hesitantly stepped away from Stark, finding a smile for the lord and master of Hueco Mundo. "Aizen-taichou," he greeted with a dip of his head.

He was interrupted from saying anything further when Urahara tittered, his gaze locked on the two currently engaged with each other. "That looks like fun, Sou-kun," the shop owner stated with a wave of his randomly appearing fan. "We should try it."

A look of supreme annoyance attacked Aizen's face for the briefest instant. "Kisuke, now is not the time," he reminded his friend.

Urahara faked a pout, waving the fan in front of his face. "You never let me have any fun."

A growl interrupted their witty banter as Ichigo threw a glare over his shoulder, lips reddened and bruised. "You're ruining the mood," he insisted. "Two choices. Either leave or stay and watch cause we're not finished."

The shopkeeper brightened at the alternatives, while Izuru's face burned even brighter. It wasn't so much that he was a virgin or anything like that, but he wasn't used to seeing someone he considered a cross between older brother and mentor in such a position. Nearby, Stark burst into laughter as Ichigo's gaze swung to Urahara.

Brown eyes narrowed. "Except you," the teenager clarified. "You can't stay."

"Itsygo!" Nel's voice ricocheted down the hall.

However, before she could glomp onto her favorite human, Stark's hand snaked out and grabbed the back of her robe. She was left dangling in his grasp.

"Now's not a good time," the first Espada explained with a smirk, watching as she struggled for all of two seconds before looking at him over her shoulder with a pout.

The girl wriggled. "Awww," she whined. "But I wants ta hug Itsygo!"

"Nel," Ulquiorra's gravid tone interjected, appearing suddenly from down the hall. His hands were shoved into his pockets with usual disdain. "Kurosaki is busy."

Amazingly enough, her sulk disappeared, melting into a happy grin. "Will Ulqui-chan play with me then?"

The look on the fourth Espada's face was entirely deadpan, despite Stark's continuous snickering in the background. Before Ulquiorra could respond, if he even planned to do so in the first place, Aizen interjected.

"Izuru-kun, would you like to be shown a room?" the evil overlord queried pleasantly, voice implying that the best of his subordinates better skedaddle as well.

The former vice-captain nodded. "Hai, Aizen-taichou," he answered. Glancing one last time at Ichimaru and Ichigo, he hurried to Aizen's side, cheeks still a fiery red.

"Nice to see you again, Kira-kun," Urahara greeted as Izuru joined them, a smile on his face. They headed down the hall.

Aizen, however, paused and glanced at his subordinates and heirs. "Do make this quick, Gin. I want to hear of your exploits."

Ichigo chose that moment to roll his hips against Gin's. The man gasped, his fingers digging into Ichigo's shoulder.

"Hai, Aizen-taichou," Gin answered. And then, his mouth was captured by his lover's. All else was lost to the heat of Ichigo's lips.

Rolling his eyes, Stark wiggled Nel, who was still in his grasp. "C'mon brat, I think Grimmjow is looking for someone to spar with."

"She should not waste her time with that idiot," Ulquiorra inserted tonelessly but walked off with the first and fifth Espada anyway.

"Yay!" Nel cheered, squirming playful. "Mebbe I can make 'im a kitty 'gin."

Stark nearly choked on his laughter at the thought of Nel petting Grimmjow. Even he couldn't deny that those ears were just too adorable, killing any belief that the Espada was a dangerous beast.

Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hall, leaving the two lovers to their business.

"They finally left," Ichigo muttered, mouth hungrily gnawing at Gin's throat. His lips devoured pale skin, leaving streaks of saliva in his wake and a ring of marks.

"Mmm," Gin murmured and rolled his hips against his lover's. "Ichigo... M'hungry."

Ichigo chuckled. "I'm sure you are." He dragged his hands between their bodies and parted Gin's clothes, freeing his arousal. "Gotta make this fast." He clamped down on an exposed shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks.

Gin shuddered and pushed back against the wall, wrapping his legs around Ichigo's waist. His groin came in contact with Ichigo. He could feel his lover's arousal straining against his hakama. One hand moved to his hips, helping to hold him in place as the Ichigo's other fumbled for his own clothes. He undid the obi, managing to free himself to the relatively chilly air of Hueco Mundo. Not that it mattered with the blood burning through their bodies, making both of them hot and hungry.

Their mouths devoured each other, tongues sloppily smacking. Gin reached between them and curled his fingers around Ichigo's length, stroking him and rubbing a thumb over the moistened head. Ichigo groaned and bucked forward, pushing Gin against the wall with a low thud.

"Kami, you're going to kill me," he muttered, dragging his lips to Gin's ear and tonguing it ruthlessly.

Gin chuckled under his breath and briefly squeezed before continuing his stroking. Ichigo's hand joined his, snaking between them and grabbing Gin's own arousal. They stroked each other in alternating rhythms, the sounds of their gasps filling the now empty hallway.

"I can think of worse ways ta die," Gin responded, free hand snaking around Ichigo's neck for balance, elbow dragging his lover closer as his hips rocked into the teenager's grip.

He received his answer as teeth grazed his ear before latching down onto the side of his throat, applying just enough pain and pleasure to make his body shiver. It was nothing a whispered kidoh wouldn't heal later if he bothered, but it made him sizzle with want and need. Ichigo's hands worked him skillfully, and Gin wished they had time for far more than hurried and shared hand jobs. He had the urge to feel Ichigo moving inside of him, to feel their naked bodies pressed together and covered in sweat. The adrenaline from their mission burned in his blood. A part of him could still smell the burning buildings and the sharp, copper scent of Hitsugaya's blood.

Like before, Gin didn't bother to hold himself back. He let the coiling in his gut twist and grow, let the warmth become a full blown blaze. He allowed himself to enjoy Ichigo's touch, giving in to the sensations his younger lover brought to him. Gin's thin fingers clutched all the tighter to Ichigo, body moving sinuously in the teenager's grasp. He heard the sounds his lover made, harsh breathing and quiet grunts and groans, felt the flex of Ichigo's shoulders beneath his fingertips.

Their bodies moved, straining and pushing, hands in constant motion. Gin turned his head, forcing Ichigo's lips to meet with his. Their mouths came together, open and hungry, exchanging heated breaths that tasted faintly of power. It always seemed as if Ichigo bathed in it, the press of his reiatsu and the taste of spirit and strength on his tongue. And there was always a bare hint of innocence that Gin greedily craved.

Tongues tangled sloppily, lips absorbing heated moans, and Gin felt his groin tighten. He tightened his grip on Ichigo's length, even as he let his orgasm wash over him, pleasure spiking through his entire body. Ichigo seemed to enjoy bringing his older lover to climax first, biting down gently on Gin's bottom lip. He thrust his hips upward, grinding against the man's lithe frame. A few more steady pumps from Gin's fingers, and he spilled himself between their bodies, covering their fingers in warm release.

Panting, they shared a slow and lingering kiss, ignoring the sweat that streaked across their skin and dampening their robes. Ichigo flexed his fingers around Gin's hips as the former captain carefully unwrapped his legs and lowered himself to the ground. Ichigo tangled the fingers of his free hand in Gin's hair, directing his head for a deeper kiss. A tongue slithered against his, completely savoring the taste before he allowed the press of time to knock against him.

He broke away with much reluctance, a smirk already curling his lips. As Ichigo watched with lidded eyes, Gin drew his fingers to his lips and curled a tongue around his lover's release.

A growl echoed in Ichigo's throat. "You're seriously threatening my restraint," he murmured, digging a hand into Gin's pocket and pulling out a handkerchief they had learned to carry around.

"They're dirty," Gin said simply, pretending innocence.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and wiped the rest of it off with the handkerchief, cleaning both their hands. "I don't know what to do with you."

"I can think of a few things," Gin replied with a grin, dipping his head and kissing Ichigo again. His hand slithered around Ichigo's waist, dragging his lover towards him. The inch Ichigo had recently gained made it a lot easier to kiss him.

"Aizen's waiting," the teenager reminded, teeth grazing along Gin's reddened lower lip.

With a fake pout and sigh, the man drew back, moving his deft hands to his own clothing to tuck himself back in and retie his obi. He watched as Ichigo did the same, an aura of reluctance covering both of them.

"Fine," Gin agreed. "But aftawards, yer mine."

Judging by the glint in Ichigo's eyes, there was no argument on his part. None at all.

* * *

"I think he's coming around."

"Kuchiki-san? Kuchiki Byakuya, can you hear me?"

The voice filtered through his conscious completely without his consent, though there was a soft lilt to its tone that didn't make his head throb quite as much as the other. Byakuya peeled open his eyes and instantly winced at the harsh brightness that assailed them. A groan slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

"Kuchiki-san?"

It took him a moment to register that it was Unohana speaking to him. and Byakuya forced his eyes to open once more, looking directly into her worried expression. He vaguely recognized that he was no longer at home but in the fourth division before licking dried lips, his mouth parched.

"What...?" But the query ended on a cough as his dry mouth could not even form saliva to speak.

Immediately, his head was supported as Unohana pressed a small cup to his lips, helping him drink cool water that slid down his throat in blessed relief. He was grateful, drinking heartily until she pulled it away and let him fall back against the pillow. His head was beginning to clear, and he glanced around the room, recognizing the fourth division's second and third-seats but no one else. Especially not the stone-faced man standing near the doorway, stiff and formal.

"How are you feeling?" Unohana asked.

Byakuya worked his tongue for a moment, letting it absorb moisture before speaking. "I am alive… for whatever it is worth."

Relief spread across her features. "Are you up to conversation? Chamber 46 is interested in your recounting of the events."

That explained the stranger.

"If it is necessary for right this moment, then I can spare a few minutes."

She sighed faintly. "I should have known. Do not stress yourself, Kuchiki-san. I will come back later to discuss your... situation." It was perhaps the most delicately she could put it. She didn't miss his wince, however. And he didn't miss the lack of reference to his title. He was a captain no longer.

Byakuya merely inclined his head, dragging his noble pride from somewhere and donning it upon his face. He would need all the strength he could gather. The hollowness he felt inside was something no healer could mend. He felt the loss of Senbonzakura as a rift in his heart, a deep emptiness that would never be filled again.

Unohana's eyes watched him searchingly before she turned away. The woman gestured for Isane and Iemura to leave ahead of her before turning her attention to the representative.

"He is still my patient," the captain stated firmly. "Do not upset him."

He nodded sharply. "Yes, Unohana-taichou. I promise." There was a hint of fear in his voice. He would not be disobeying.

Seemingly satisfied, the lady took her leave of the room. "I will return in twenty minutes," she said on her way out of the room. "Finish before then."

The door shut quietly behind her. Byakuya turned his attention to the representative.

"Ask your questions," he ordered.

The man nodded. "Very well. I am Satou Makoto, and I have been asked to take your statement, Kuchiki-sama."

Byakuya bit back his sigh. "I am in no mood to completely relate the tale, Satou-san. Ask what you came here to ask and leave it at that."

"If you insist." He moved to the table in the room, pulling out paper, ink, and brush to write with. "Firstly, when did you first encounter the intruders?"

"I returned home because I had forgotten an item. They were waiting in my dining room."

The man cocked his head to the side. "Doing what?"

"As near as I can tell, eating onigiri," Byakuya answered, completely blank-faced and ignoring the man's stunned blinking. "I was knocked unconscious, and by the time I awoke, they had already severed my sokatsui."

Satou hummed as he scribbled down the information. "For the record, would you please state whom the perpetrators were?"

"Ichimaru Gin, Kira Izuru, and Kurosaki Ichigo." He paused, thinking back. The two former heads of the third division had mostly been observers. It was as if Kurosaki had orchestrated that entire encounter, though he couldn't be certain.

"I see." Satou frowned faintly. "Do you have any idea why you were otherwise unharmed? Considering their behavior towards the tenth division captain--"

"His name," Byakuya corrected firmly, angered by the man's callous reference, "was Hitsugaya Toushirou. And I can only assume what I know, considering what Kurosaki told me."

The representative dipped his head. "My apologies for the offense. If you would please, what did the boy say?"

Byakuya's gaze flickered towards the window, afternoon light greeting his eyes. "That I was not his enemy and he did not want to see me dead."

"Did he happen to mention who he did consider his enemy?"

"Soul Society," the Kuchiki heir answered dully, trying to ignore the painful clench in his heart. "Just like Aizen, he wants to bring Seireitei down."

Satou could only stare in blank wonder as his words reverberated throughout the room, sounding all too final to be believed.

* * *

"--swear I saw them!"

"My division lies in ruins--"

"And how drunk were you, fool?"

"--research is in shambles! It's going to take years--"

"And they were kissing! Lip-locking right there where--"

"How is this possible?"

"--short on hands and supplies now that--"

"Enough!" Yamamoto's harsh demand vibrated through the air, instantly cutting through the gathered noise and bustle of his captains and their reaction to recent events.

Silence fell quickly like a heavy blanket, and many pairs of eyes turned towards the head of the Gotei 13, expecting explanations. The old man looked tired and worn, a distinct pinch of stress to his forehead. Yet, he remained solid and strong as he swept his gaze over the gathered captains, numbers diminished once more.

For the first time since Aizen had declared his treachery, a trace of worry entered the soutaichou's being. For a moment, he doubted that Soul Society would have the strength to win this war. But then, he promptly shoved it down. The Shinigami would be victorious; he was going to be sure of that.

No matter what it took.

Yamamoto cleared his throat noisily and laid both hands on his staff, fingers overlapping. "As I am sure you are all aware," he began, voice strong and even, "in the last twenty-four hours, Soul Society suffered an invasion." He paused to let them digest that, a few having been somewhat unaware of the circumstances. "We have identified the intruders."

Shunsui stirred, one hand touching the brim of his ever-present hat. "How many, Yama-jii?" he asked. Though he had seen a pair of the perpetrators himself, considering the damage, he expected to hear of an army.

But to hear Yamamoto say "two" was something the eighth division captain had not expected.

Soifon snorted. "I saw three," she insisted. "Right after they destroyed the warehouses, but they were gone before I could catch them."

The old man heaved a deep breath. "Initially, there were two, until they were joined by third division fukutaichou, Kira Izuru."

A murmur swept through the room, many of them disturbed by this news. And yet, others were feeling smug, having long suspected the third division's vice-captain of being treacherous. They only wished they'd had sense to lock him up sooner.

Komamura stirred, an uncertain feeling in his gut. "And the others?" he asked, wondering if Tousen had returned.

"Former head of the third division, Ichimaru Gin. And the substitute Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Yamamoto's answer fell like leaden weights into the middle of the room, causing a ripple of muttered surprise and disbelief. Ichimaru's appearance was not unexpected but to hear that yet another ally had defected seemed unthinkable.

"Impossible."

"Why would he do this?"

"What on Earth...?"

Almost instantly, conversation swelled again, several of the captain's shaking their heads in disbelief. Jyuushiro and Shunsui were not the only ones to be worried about Kurosaki's supposed involvement. It made little sense to all of them. The boy had fought so staunchly for them, had been angry at Aizen for what he had done to Kuchiki Rukia. Why would he switch sides?

The murmurs grew louder until Yamamoto was forced to quiet them. "Silence," he demanded, accompanying it with a short burst of reiatsu. He didn't fail to notice Zaraki's sly smirk, however, and it concerned him.

Once silence fell, he turned his aged gaze on the fourth division captain. "Unohana-taichou, if you would please give a report on the injuries."

She nodded and took a deep breath, her eyes betraying nothing. "There were few injuries among the lower-seats and unseated Shinigami, and those were all attributed to attempts to putting out the fires. None were attacked. However, our higher seats did not fare as well." Unohana paused, hesitating over the rest.

None of the others were aware of Kuchiki's and Hitsugaya's condition other than Zaraki, so her hesitation was understandable. Nevertheless, it was important and Yamamoto urged her to continue.

"Kuchiki-taichou's condition please," he prompted.

Folding her hands in front of her, Unohana did her best to maintain her composure, swallowing thickly. "He suffered a blow to the back of the head that was easily mended and caused no permanent damage. However, he has had his sokatsui severed."

A multitude of gasps resounded through the room.

"We are down yet another taichou then," Ukitake murmured, his heart filling with sympathy for his former kouhai. It must be a serious blow to Byakuya's pride, and he promised himself he would go to visit him afterwards, provided the man would be accepting visitors.

"That is not all," Yamamoto reminded his captains. His gaze flickered back to Unohana. "Continue."

Her eyes filled with sadness, but she spoke, nonetheless. "The tenth division suffered a terrible loss. Matsumoto-fukutaichou is under heavy sedation. Hitsugaya-taichou has been murdered." The healer paused, her face filling with a righteous anger. "Murder is too light a term. He was tortured before he was killed. As best as we can tell by suffocation."

"His injuries," Komamura prompted quietly, feeling his hands curl into fists and claws threatening to puncture his own palms. "How exactly was he tortured?"

The healer in Unohana felt sick at just the memory of it, recalling how the small captain's body had been brought to her, beaten and battered. "His right hand was smashed beyond repair. There were two stab wounds, one in each shoulder, and he suffered from electrical burns. It appears that he was crushed to death, but we've been unable to determine how."

"Tell 'em about the fuckin' message," Zaraki Kenpachi inserted with a lazy drawl, speaking for the first time.

Yamamoto's face filled with anger, and he glowered at the man. "Zaraki-taichou," he warned, reiatsu simmering around him in an annoyed halo. He had already explicitly stated that they wouldn't be discussing that particular piece of information.

Zaraki shook off the warning as if it were a pesky insect. "If you don't, I will," he said gruffly. "Unless it's some secret."

Yamamoto rose from his seat, fingers clenching around his zanpakutou. "That is unnecessary information. You will not speak of it. That is an order."

"Che." Zaraki stuck a finger in his ear, idly cleaning it out and rolling his eyes away from the captain-commander. "What're ya gonna do? Lock me up? Lose another taichou?"

He shifted his gaze back towards Yamamoto, and their eyes locked, a battle of wills crashing between them. Zaraki remained stolid, however, refusing to let the information simply fade away. It had struck him as odd then, and he wasn't going to let it go. There was something the old geezer was hiding from all of them. He was sure of it.

Tension sparked through the room until Shunsui broke it, brow furrowing in interest. "What was the message?" he asked, his own curiosity spiking.

One dark eye flickered to him. "Traitor," Zaraki answered simply.

"That doesn't make any sense," Soifon inserted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zaraki grunted with a shrug. "Makes more than the rest of it."

Realizing that he had been thwarted, Yamamoto returned to his seat, anger still simmering beneath the surface. This was rapidly spiraling out of his control.

"What was the rest of it?" Shunsui demanded.

His lip curled, revealing one fanged tooth. "Orihime-chan sends her love," the eleventh division captain answered simply.

Murmurs of confusion rippled through the room. No one could make any sense of it either. What did one message have to do with the other?

Zaraki tapped his chin. "If ya ask me," he inserted, shifting position. "Seems the pipsqueak's did something to hurt her. Probably under orders."

He didn't look at Yamamoto, didn't have to. The implication was enough.

"Is this true, Yamamoto-sensei?" Ukitake asked quietly, something uncertain niggling inside of him. "Is that why Ichigo-kun and the others have gone missing?"

"That's not the issue right now," the captain-commander stated gruffly, trying to lead the conversation to something he felt would be more productive. "We must discuss the dam--"

He was interrupted by the last person anyone would have expected to do so. "Are we in the business of murdering children now?" Komamura demanded, indignation and outrage evident in his voice.

"Damn, I didn't sign up for this shit," Zaraki added with a snort. "It's different if they can fight back, but that big-chested girl ain't but a kid. A damn ditzy one at that. S'not 'xactly the traitor type."

The old man was rapidly losing control. "She couldn't be trusted," he explained, knowing none of them could even begin to understand his reasoning. It was too complicated, too steeped in politics and dangers and fears for the future.

"Fuck, yer the one we can't trust," Zaraki cursed. "Who ya gonna turn on next? Me? Them? Your own damn lieutenant? When should I expect a zanpakutou in my back? In my daughter's?"

That was the last straw.

Yamamoto's staff rapped violently against the floor, even as his reiatsu swept through the room in an irritated yet carefully controlled wave. "Zaraki-taichou, you are out of line," he declared, voice booming around the room. "Cease. This. Instant."

Silence rapidly descended.

"There are more important matters at hand," the old man went on.

Zaraki didn't flinch at the addition of reiatsu, even as it lashed at his skin. He did quiet, however, knowing that there was no more point in arguing. He had already laid the seed. It was up to the other slow bastards to catch on themselves. Something was rotten in the government of Soul Society, and soon, they would all know.

He returned to his place in line without an apology, crossing his arms over his chest. His eye found the high ceiling with pure nonchalance. Let the old man dig his own grave. He had already noticed with a single glance that many were considering his words. Particularly Kyouraku and Ukitake, both looking thoughtful.

The silence that attacked the room was heavy and tense, until Unohana quietly coughed.

"I would also like to report something else."

The captain-commander gestured towards her faintly, squaring his shoulders. "Yes?"

She sighed. "My seventh-seat, Yamada Hanatarou, has been missing for some time now." The healer glanced at the gathered captains, all seven of them. "If anyone has any knowledge of this, I would appreciate it."

Zaraki snorted. "Brat prolly ran off with Ichigo," he muttered under his breath.

No one paid him any attention.

Soifon frowned. "Why did it take you so long to report it?"

"The matter was intradivisional," Unohana answered calmly. "Until the recent events, I had not felt that I needed to bring the disappearance to the entire Gotei 13's attention."

"That is all well and good," Mayuri inserted with a faint twitch. "But I require the attention. Have you forgotten the damage to my division?" he demanded, the end of his voice rising in faint pitch.

A collective sigh barely whispered through the room. He remained unruffled by their obvious annoyance, drawing up straight in anger.

"Everyone seems to delight in ignoring what they have done to the research department," Kurotsuchi added. "But need I remind you of what our prior plans had been?"

"The cannon?" Ukitake asked with some surprise. "They were targeting the cannon?"

Mayuri scowled angrily, lips twisting into a dangerous sneer. "Along with half of my storage warehouses. It was a miracle that they somehow missed the one housing the gate to Hueco Mundo."

"But how did they know?" Shunsui pressed.

"Isn't it obvious?" Soifon inserted with a faint gesture. "Kira must have told them."

Zaraki sniffed. "That wimpy-eyed brat wouldna had the chance with all ya'll starin' him down like ya've been."

Mayuri waved their accusations off. "There was a spy in the division. They have been caught and interrogated. Unfortunately, they are unwilling to speak, and my methods are thorough." There was a collective shudder at this. "I suspect Urahara's involvement."

More murmurs filled the room. It appeared that they were losing allies left and right, severely limiting their fighting power.

"He did disappear," Kurotsuchi commented aloud, as if to remind them. "I make certain to keep what tabs I can on my predecessor, and he disappeared without a trace not long ago. Not even his supposed candy shop remains."

"We should have expected that much," Unohana mused aloud with a sigh, remembering well the circumstances of a hundred years ago and Urahara's abrupt disappearance even then.

Yamamoto gathered himself. "This is very troubling," he rumbled, overriding their comments and drawing their attention towards himself. "Not only has Aizen gained more comrades, but our only means of counterattack has been destroyed."

Zaraki snorted again and promptly tuned out whatever nonsense Yamamoto thought he was going to spew. Hell, even he knew it was over. Kurosaki was on the other side. It was only a matter of time before Aizen claimed his victory. And Kenpachi would be damn proud to say "I told you so" in the end.

He was only waiting for the hammer to fall.

* * *

author's whining: Ulquiorra is damn hard to write.

I hope you enjoyed! There's plenty more to come so don't disappear just yet! I look forward to your comments!


	17. The Song of Treason

**Title: The Song of Treason**

**Characters: Kira Izuru, mentions of others**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: None**

**Words: 1,011**

**Description: There is a breaking point for anyone, even the most obedient. **

* * *

Izuru used to like Hitsugaya-taichou. He had been rather fond of the draconic captain, admiring his strength and respecting him greatly. Not only because he was a dear friend of his classmate but also because he was a clear example of what one could do, no matter the circumstance. Hitsugaya was just a kid, after all. And yet, he'd made it as a captain.

It gave Izuru great hope for himself.

That was all before he found himself at the harsh end of a permanent inquiry with a certain icy bastard's words trying to damn him.

To be fair, he supposed his own situation was remarkably more indicative than Hinamori-chan with her broken heart and Hisagi-senpai, who had merely been following the law. But that didn't mean it was proper for him to be the only one suffering.

They accused him of everything, claiming that he must have known what his captain was up to. After all, he and Ichimaru-taichou had been really close and the third division was tight-knit. Was he so _blind_ and _stupid_ that he couldn't see his own captain was going to betray them? Of course not. Therefore, he must have known.

Hitsugaya Toushirou was his primary accuser.

He blamed himself for his childhood friend's pain and took that shame out on Izuru, stating that it was very obvious the vice-captain was a traitor. That Izuru was going to turn on them at any moment. That he was secretly feeding Ichimaru and Aizen Soul Society's secrets.

As if there was anything Izuru knew that Aizen-taichou didn't already.

No one cared that Izuru himself suffered. Except for senpai and Renji-kun. But then Kurosaki-san disappeared, and Renji-kun was soon too busy looking for him. The only ones to truly stand by Izuru's side had been Hisagi-senpai and Zaraki-taichou, surprisingly enough.

The others just accused him of all manner of horrible misdeeds, failing to notice the unavoidable truth. That Izuru had been left behind, callously forgotten by the one he was _supposedly_ siding with. And that had been the most crushing blow, the knowledge that his dear captain had walked away without a second glance. Without so much as asking if Izuru would have gone with him.

And that had hurt the most. That was what had broken him. So much that he could only feel a cold burning in his belly for everything Hitsugaya threw at him. That he could only half-heartedly deny the accusations because a part of him wanted it so much to be true. He had fought to keep his position because he wasn't going to leave his division to someone who didn't know them. To someone who wouldn't care.

It was a painful reminder every day, when he stood in front of his subordinates with a noticeably empty spot behind him. When he watched the rest of Seireitei and Soul Society prepare for war. When he practiced until sore and sweaty in secret to achieve bankai on his own.

Ichimaru-taichou had abandoned him.

He hadn't wanted to believe it. But the truth was there, staring him in the face. He had been left behind to deal with the accusations and the stares, the calls to return him to prison. And other, far worse things. Dark whispers on the edge of his senses.

Binding his powers. Exile. Execution.

And yet, Izuru couldn't be angry with Hinamori-chan or Hisagi-senpai. It wasn't their fault that they hadn't suffered as much as he. Or that the new Chamber 46 and Hitsugaya-taichou didn't give them any blame. And that all of his captain's misdeeds, all the blame he should have received, had fallen on Izuru's shoulders.

They wanted someone to blame. And Hitsugaya-taichou had all too willingly given them Kira Izuru on a golden platter. All dressed up with icy, angry words and incriminations.

Izuru had helped his captain, had been there when Hitsugaya-taichou had discovered the murdered Chamber 46. He had led Hitsugaya-taichou on a wild chase, fighting against Matsumoto-san and subsequently losing. But fighting all the same. Had escaped from prison with Ichimaru-taichou's aid. Had raised his sword against Hinamori-chan. Had hardly seemed repentant for his actions.

He supposed the last few were true in part. He had followed Ichimaru-taichou because he believed in his captain, believed in the man who had made him a vice-captain and given him a chance. When Ichimaru-taichou asked those things of him, he hadn't even thought twice. He'd simply done it.

Perhaps the worst of it… what was most incriminating and that he never dare tell anyone was that if his captain returned, Izuru was more than ready to leave with him. Soul Society had already made him out to be a traitor. There wasn't much worse he could do.

Izuru wasn't stupid. He had only retained the third because they didn't dare lose the entire division. They were already short three captains and a vice-captain. They didn't need to suffer any more losses.

Izuru kept his silence, enduring the accusations with bowed shoulders and an inner hope. He buried the fury and the urge to strike back, resentment replacing admiration until he found there was no one in Soul Society he despised more than Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Hitsugaya-taichou… who had never once thought to offer him the tiniest word of sympathy. The captain was too much the stubborn brat to admit that he thought he had failed Hinamori-chan on his own. Or that he wasn't omniscient and hadn't been able see the betrayal coming either. Hitsugaya-taichou who wanted to see someone pay and had never even asked Izuru for the truth.

And Izuru thought to himself that if he ever had the chance to repay Hitsugaya-taichou for all the _kindness_ the boy hadn't given, he would take it in an instant. Without regret. Without shedding a tear.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the grief and pain, Izuru stopped believing in Soul Society's ideals. Or maybe that had happened a long time ago; he just hadn't realized earlier.

So he watched the sky, looking for the telltale rip and tear. And Izuru waited.

* * *

a/n: Yep. We have returned to the "filler" chapters. Not that they're bad or anything. But I've some little side bits to show you before I move right along with the plot. Hope you enjoyed this little peek into Izuru's mind. Reviews are always enjoyed!


	18. Cerise

**Title: Cerise**

**Pairings: Gin/Ichigo**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Implied Yaoi**

**Words: 506**

**Description: His first glimpse had been entirely accidental, Ichigo was sure. But in the end, it might have sealed his fate.**

* * *

Vivid and bright. Very nearly glowing and absolutely luminescent. A color that shone, like the sun through stained glass on a warm spring day. Liquid amber splashed with cerise.

That had been Ichigo's first impression when he caught a glimpse of Gin's eyes. He had grown used to seeing his new friend constantly concealing the sensitive irises, lids slitted. It seemed anytime he wanted to open them further, he would look away, as if ashamed of their shade.

His first glimpse had been entirely accidental. Ichigo was sure of it.

They had been in Ichigo's room, talking about something and generally lounging around. Gin had fallen asleep on the couch, and Ichigo had let him. It wasn't long after that his friend had twitched in an unusual fashion, his face taking on shadows of pain even in sleep.

Ichigo couldn't help but wonder what Gin had been suffering. When it became obvious that the dream… no, nightmare was getting worse, Ichigo had resolved to wake him. He wouldn't want to linger in the things that haunted his sleep either. After all, in the dead of night, he sometimes saw the things Soul Society had planned to do to him and those he cared about.

It never ceased to fill him with the slow burn of anger, seething and growing beneath the surface. Deepening hatred until the moment he could show them his wrath.

He had gently placed his hands on Gin's shoulders, shaking him carefully and calling his name. Gin's eyes had popped open in his surprise, focusing instantly on Ichigo hovering over him.

Ichigo had nearly been taken by surprise himself, catching the first glimpse. His initial thought had been how beautiful they were and then how very pained. The brief glance he had received before Gin shuttered them closed once more had revealed all of Gin's emotions in their entirety.

He was hurting from something, an old pain by the looks of it. A wound that had never been healed. Only covered in the hopes that eventually it could be forgotten.

His offer to listen had surprised even himself, and even though Gin didn't take him up on it, he could see the relief in his friend's eyes.

Still, that brief glance had lingered in Ichigo's mind. He wondered what could have happened for his friend to be in such pain.

He remembered thinking that he wanted a glimpse of those eyes again. And every time afterward when he caught the barest hint of luminescent amber, it made something inside of him warm. Maybe that was when he first started falling for his friend.

He knew Gin was starting to trust him when the former captain didn't turn away after opening his eyes. When he allowed brown to meet red.

The words were always on the tip of his tongue, to tell his friend and now lover just how beautiful his eyes were. But then, he realized that somehow Gin already knew. And he supposed that was good enough.

--

a/n: Yeah, yeah. I know. Tis short. But if I can find the time, I'll double-update this week with another one. Probably on Thursday night/Early Friday morning.

I hoped you liked it anyways. For anyone who didn't recognize, this was _The Art of Losing _from Ichigo's POV, or at least, the beginning was. Comments are welcome and appreciated! As are theories! I do love to see what people think will happen next. Thanks!


	19. Communal Bathing

**Title: Communal Bathing**

**Characters: Ichigo, Halibel, Gin, Nel, Stark, Urahara, Aizen, Szayel**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Language, partial and complete nudity**

**Words: 2337**

**Description: Bath time bonding was not what Ichigo signed up for. **

* * *

Steam curled up from the hot water, bringing with it a faint fragrance that surrounded the entire bath. Ichigo didn't mind it so much. It was at least better than the rocky, mineral scent he'd learned to associate with the underground training area beneath Urahara's shop. There was a bitter, lingering taste with that water, even if it did heal everything.

With a contented sigh, Ichigo sunk lower into the water, letting the heat sink into his weary muscles. The bath did much to soothe the aches and bruises his body had suffered that day from training. He could already feel the tingling of healing at work, and it was comforting.

He supposed the idea of communal bathing wasn't all that bad, all things considered. Stark had been sitting across from him since Ichigo had shown up about fifteen minutes ago. Looking, of all things, dead asleep. He hadn't so much as stirred since Ichigo's arrival. The Vizard was more shocked by the fact he hadn't drowned yet, perfectly perched on the ledge with arms stretched to the side and head fallen backwards in sleep.

It wasn't the first time he had shared the bath with Stark, the first Espada one of the few who he could stand. And thanks to that, Ichigo knew where his number was: tattooed on the back of his left shoulder blade.

On the other side of Ichigo and a few feet away, Nel was happily splashing about as if it were her own personal swimming pool. Again, this was something that didn't bother Ichigo. It was like bathing with his little sisters all over again. As she giggled and hopped around, causing the water to ripple, he kept an eye on her. Just in case she suddenly didn't know how to swim or decided to glomp him.

When Ichigo had arrived earlier, dust caked to his clothes and several light sword slashes on his body, Yammy had been leaving, much to his relief. The man was _huge_, and he took up a lot of space. And he was an idiot, who never failed to try and draw Ichigo into some foolish discussion. Yammy literally gave Ichigo a headache every time, and he made it a point to avoid the tenth Espada.

Tension slowly fading from his muscles, Ichigo closed his eyes and tried to soak for a few minutes longer, despite the fact his fingers were getting pruny. It was rare that he allowed himself the luxury, paranoid about bathing with too many people present.

The door to the changing rooms creaked open, and the presence of a well-contained and simmering-beneath-the-surface reiatsu filtered into Ichigo's senses. The bare steps on the stone were hardly audible. He cracked open one eye to get a glimpse of the new arrival, and damn near swallowed his tongue in shock.

Skin. There was too much nudity going on. He felt his face heat, far hotter than the water caused. And he sunk down further, nearly to his nose.

Bouncing. There was too much bouncing, even as Halibel lowered herself into the water right next to Stark.

Did she bother with towels? Of course not. Ichigo had seen the outfit she chose for herself. It barely covered the essentials. Why would she bother with modesty when bathing?

Ichigo groaned inwardly, closing his eyes and refusing to look. His ears turned a bright crimson.

It was a childhood trauma. At the tender age of seven, his brilliant father had taken it upon himself to teach his children human anatomy. But rather than use his _medical textbooks_, damn Goat-Face had gleefully dumped magazines of porn into his son's lap. Actual porn. Not just semi-nude, _Victoria's Secret_ catalog pictures.

Ichigo had never been the same since.

There was splashing nearby. "What's wrong wit yer face, Itsygo?" Nel questioned, and he felt one of her fingers press against his cheek.

The blush spread from his face to his chest and the back of his neck. He could feel it creeping across his skin. Nel's giggling was getting ridiculous. Ichigo hoped that Halibel spontaneously generated clothes. A quick glance revealed that not only had she _not_, but she was beginning to smirk just a little.

Che. _Bitch_.

Next to her, the first Espada finally stirred, one hand rising with a lackadaisical wave. "You shouldn't tease the boy that way, Bel," Stark drawled lazily, fingers trailing through the water. "You'll make him pop a blood vessel. And then, Gin would get upset. Might even cry."

"I do not tease," Halibel responded as she languidly stretched and relaxed into the steamy water.

Not that Ichigo noticed. His eyes were closed, after all. So he didn't see the bounce of her bosom that put even _Matsumoto_ to shame. Nor did he see her turn her head or catch sight of the tattooed digit at the nape of her neck.

On the edge of Ichigo's conscious, he heard the door to the changing room open again. Two sets of feet this time. And girlish giggles. He didn't even have to look to know who they were. One was Stark's fraccion. Another belonged to Halibel.

There was a splash. A ripple.

"Evening, Ichigo-san!" they chirped at him in tandem, one more exuberant than the other.

He mumbled something that might have been a greeting. There was the sneaky suspicion that they held as much modesty as Halibel. He didn't dare look.

Nel's finger poked into his cheek again. "Itsyyyygoooo," she whined in his ear. "You can't go ta sleep in heeeeere."

"I'm not," he gritted out through clenched teeth, very nearly getting a swallow of hot, mineral water.

The door swung open again, and Ichigo was really beginning to curse his luck, which in retrospect, seemed to suck rather badly.

Honestly, take one look at the past year or so of his life. Where in there did it show he had_ good_ fortune?

"Crowded tonight." Szayel's voice filtered through the madness, the perfect mix of Byakuya-pride and Kurotsuchi-psychopathy. It never ceased to send a shiver up Ichigo's spine.

He knew the moment those orange eyes landed on him, seconds after the water rippled and splashed. Ichigo was simply waiting for the inevitable--

"My, Ichigo-kun, any luck on contacting your Quincy friend?"

And there it was.

"No," Ichigo stated in a surly tone as he fixed the eighth Espada with a glare.

Except that he couldn't really look at Szayel either because with the pink hair and the hip-swagger he had, the man really resembled a woman at times. It threw off Ichigo's senses.

Szayel pouted, looking much younger without his uniform on. "A pity," he responded, very nearly sounding as if he were sulking.

He really, really wanted to leave at that moment. They were laughing and joking around him, which wouldn't have been so bad in any other situation. But the female fraccion kept slowly and none-too-subtly edging his way with their bouncing bosoms. Not to mention Halibel taking every opportunity to rise from the water and give him more views than he ever wanted to see.

Suddenly, a wet towel dropped on top of his head, covering his face and obscuring his vision. Taken by surprise and accidentally mistaking it for someone glomping him with absurdly large breasts, Ichigo yelped and flailed, hand grasping for the soft object on his head. He pulled it off and whirled around to find Gin standing on the ledge and over him. All long, slim limbs and large, cocky grin.

"There ya are, Ichigo!" Gin chirped, his gaze seemingly saved for Ichigo alone and none of the other bared flesh in the room. "Did ya forget abou' practice?"

Realizing that Gin could probably see the terribly bright flush over his entire body, Ichigo couldn't help but blush deeper. "I just finished sparring," he grumbled, trying to find his equilibrium.

One slim finger reached out, pressing against his forehead. "Ya can never 'ave enough practice," Gin countered as Ichigo's eyes nearly crossed trying to follow the movement of the finger.

"Like a damsel in distress," a low voice commented behind Ichigo, lazy and filled with amusement. "And Gin-sama is the knight in shining armor. How adorable."

Ichigo swung around to give Stark a full-on glare that was rendered ineffective by the sight of Halibel casually stretching and giving a little bounce with her chest. His contradiction on the tip of his tongue, Ichigo promptly tripped over his words and whirled back around. He climbed out of the baths in record time, ignoring his dripping over the floor as he stormed past Gin.

"Let's get out of here," the teen mumbled. He threw the towel back over his head and pretended he couldn't hear Stark snickering behind him.

"Itsygooooo!" Nel wailed.

He heard her scampering out after him seconds before a weight attached to his back. She literally climbed until she was dangling from his shoulder.

"You can't leave me behind!"

Gin said something parting to the Arrancar that Ichigo didn't catch thanks to Nel's wibbling in his ear. Not that Ichigo was particularly interested. He just wanted to escape, and Gin had provided that avenue.

Therefore, he would only grudgingly admit to himself and no one else that Gin had saved him.

* * *

_Omake_

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo considered himself a rather patient man. He had been cultivating this plan for several decades after all and had waited for the time to be ripe before showing all of Seireitei just what fools they were.

He also considered himself a man who enjoyed his luxuries. Who as lord and master of Hueco Mundo deserved certain indulgences. He was the one in charge, the master mind, the most powerful. A private room, larger than all the others, a high throne, prime seating, etc. It was all his due.

As was the private bath accessible only through his private quarters. It was large, too big for one man alone, but he preferred it that way. It was lavish, always the perfect temperature with all the necessities within arm's reach. It was quiet. But the best part?

It was devoid of all his subordinates. Even the ones he liked.

Today, however, there was to be no such peace.

"Kisuke," Sousuke began with growing impatience. "This is my _private_ bath."

The water rippled, splashing against his bare chest. "I know," Kisuke responded brightly, wading Aizen's direction. "I came to wash your back."

He suppressed a sigh, noticing that the shopkeeper still wore that ridiculous hat. Dressed in nothing but a cloth tied at the waist, little was left to the imagination. He held one of those horrifying, colorful froofy poofs in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. The smile on his face was both mischievous and predatory.

Aizen wondered if he should fear for his chastity had he still possessed the damn thing.

He glared, though it had little effect, gazing through the rising steam. He cursed himself for taking out his contacts a bit too early, now he was left peering like a blind man in an attempt to see.

"Did it ever occur to you that I'm quite capable of doing so myself?" Sousuke questioned as the man continued to approach.

The grin never faltered, shadowed eyes taking on an impish glint. "It's more fun if you have help," came the answer he should have expected. "Besides, oh lord and master, you're the one who insisted on communal bathing."

"For my subordinates, not myself."

"Semantics. Now turn."

Sometimes, it was like arguing with a brick wall. Kisuke heard only what he felt like hearing and anything outside of that was just discarded and subsequently ignored. Aizen had already learned his lessons in futility long ago. It was pointless to deny Kisuke _anything_. But that didn't mean he would not get his revenge.

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo was a patient man, after all.

Aizen turned, seconds later feeling the soapy puffy item slap against his back, spitting suds and warm water everywhere. Despite the fact that Aizen had bathed prior to entering the water.

Sousuke folded his arms on the ledge, setting a chin on them. "I'm never going to be rid of you," he bemoaned aloud, a fact that he had already lamented time and time again.

"Whyever would you want to?" Kisuke returned. "I'm intelligent and handsome and can hold my own against you. I'd fit right in with the rest of your pretty Espada." He paused and reconsidered. "_Most _of your pretty Espada. I'm not sure what you were intending with Aaronierro."

The soapy froof traveled over his shoulders. And Aizen had to admit, if only inwardly, that it was rather soothing.

"Which reminds me. I'm going to need to replace him eventually."

"Procrastinating?" Kisuke clucked his tongue in disapproval. "What would your subordinates think of you? Turn."

He did so reluctantly and was met with a white foamed object being thrust into his face.

"My turn," Kisuke added cheerily.

Aizen knew that if he didn't, the shopkeeper would pout. And while amusing for a time, it somehow managed to seep beneath the surface. Then, he would feel _guilty_.

He took the damn pouf.

"I'd better be getting my money's worth out of you," Aizen responded in a tone which was _not_ grumpy, gesturing with one finger for Kisuke to turn around.

Reaching up to swipe the hat from his head, pressing it to his chest, gray-green eyes glinted at him. "My dear Sou-kun, you always get what you paid for at the Urahara Shouten."

Somehow, the thought wasn't comforting, especially when connected to that wicked grin.

"Never going to be rid of you," he repeated under his breath and started to soap up Kisuke's back.

The shopkeeper simply chuckled.

Yes, revenge was going to be swift. He vowed it.

* * *

a/n: More and more fillers. There's... one more, and then we get back to the main storyline. I'm sure you are all anxiously waiting. And don't worry, Aizen will get his revenge eventually. As soon as I discover a suitable punishment for our mischievious shopkeeper.

Thanks for reading! I do hope you enjoyed!


	20. Soundproofing

**Title: Soundproofing**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Tousen/Justice, Aizen, Urahara**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Implied Yaoi, Probably just a little crack (... okay, maybe a lot crack)  
**

**Words: 1,379**

**Description: Sometimes it's hard to sleep.**

* * *

"_**Justice**__**!**_"

Ichigo bolted awake with all the readiness for battle, his fingers automatically reaching for Zangetsu on complete instinct. His body was poised to spring into action, the loud cry crawling up his spine and igniting his warrior senses.

"What the--"

The form on the bed behind him stirred, warm fingers wrapping around his arm and halting his movement. "S'just Kana-chan," Gin murmured sleepily, nuzzling his mouth against the back of Ichigo's neck.

Ichigo stilled, his eyes widening as he stopped stretching for Zangetsu and looked over his shoulder. "What do you mean 'It's just Tousen?'" he asked, worry entering his belly. Perhaps it was better if he didn't know.

Amber red eyes slitted open, a bare glimpse showing through as Gin looked at him. "It's Kana-chan," Gin explained with an amused tone. "Who's a guy... and all alone..."

The younger man's jaw dropped as a bright flush spread across his cheeks. "Please tell me his last girlfriend was named Justice."

Gin smiled broadly as he slid his fingers across Ichigo's bare skin, causing his flesh to goosepimple. "Nope," he chirped.

Ichigo groaned, feeling the sudden urge to bury his head under the pillow, even if Gin's warmth next to him was rather inspiring. Just the thought of that voice and what it implied... He didn't know if he could ever sleep again.

His lover moved closer, their skin pressing together. "You know what Ul-chan says when he touches himself, don't you?" Gin asked, always amused by Ichigo's prudish behavior. He couldn't help but tease the boy, finding that blush so endearing.

"Oh, kami," Ichigo moaned in despair, trying to push out the images. "I try not to. But probably along the same lines as what the geta-boushi says."

Gin's smile widened. "What? Aizen-sama?" he proposed, going along with the teasing. "Ki-chan's more like 'Oh, Sou-kun,'" he imitated in a breathless voice, tongue sneaking out and licking the back of Ichigo's neck directly behind his ear.

"Stop, stop," Ichigo pleaded, even as another shiver spread down his spine. He unconsciously edged towards Gin. "I don't want to think about it."

"Stop?" Gin questioned, fingers moving across Ichigo's arm and down to his back, brushing across the tanned skin. "Are you sure?"

Ichigo pretend-kicked at his lover, causing Gin to chuckle. "You know what I'm talking about," he said shortly, sighing in fake exhaustion as the color in his cheeks deepened.

Just then, another low moan echoed from behind the wall. "_Justice_."

"Dammit!" Ichigo cursed, feeling the urge to destroy his ear drums. "Again?" Perhaps it was better if he just slept outside. He liked sand, sort of.

Gin couldn't help but snicker, definitely amused by his lover's reaction. "What can I say? He's got great stamina."

Rolling over, Ichigo glared at the older man. "That's not funny," he said shortly, trying and failing to look indignant.

"Ne, Ichigo?"

"What?" The teenager sounded vaguely pained, as if he were on the verge of racing to the bathroom and losing last night's delicious dinner.

A palm settled on his belly, pressing him against the mattress as Gin leaned over him, swallowing his indignation with an open-mouthed kiss. Ichigo eagerly responded, tangling his tongue with Gin's and enjoying his lover's subtle taste. He momentarily forgot about the unsettling noises, his own hand curling around Gin's back.

The kiss ended, far too short for Ichigo's liking. He licked his lips, looking up into slitted red eyes.

Gin smiled before dropping his mouth to nibble on Ichigo's throat. He spoke into Ichigo's ear, a warm puff of air.

"Wanna bet we can be louder?"

Ichigo, for his part, blushed furiously but wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

The lord and master of Hueco Mundo could not sleep.

It wasn't that he suffered from insomnia or anything of the like. He had managed to get to sleep earlier just fine and with no trouble at all. No, the problem rested in getting back to sleep after waking from a few... unwanted noises. In the time he'd been in his fortress, perfecting it and such, he'd grown used to Kaname's late-night proclamations of love and utter devotion to Justice.

In fact, he was so used to it that his subconscious mind no longer registered it as a threat and easily blocked it out. Such shouts no longer woke him anymore, and he rarely, if ever, remembered them.

However, these noises weren't just Kaname. Across the hall, he could make out several sounds that he, as a fatherly figure, would have rather he never heard at all. Ever. He could only assume that Gin had somehow goaded Ichigo into having a volume contest with Kaname. Honestly, they weren't normally this _loud_.

And he still could not sleep.

It was beginning to be quite the problem.

Just as he considered getting out of bed, walking across the cold floor in his bare feet, and banging on Gin's door in order to ask them to 'please, keep it down because Aizen-sama requires sleep,' he heard his door creak open slowly. Sousuke's defenses instantly went on alert, and his entire body tensed. He feigned sleep, wondering which of his Arrancar thought to attempt an assassination in his sleep.

He listened for the sound of feet padding across the floor. There were three... then four steps... and then suddenly the mattress dipped down behind him. Ah, a brave one. He waited patiently, still feigning sleep.

The perpetrator lifted the covers, crawled beneath, and then slid close to him until a very familiar scent wafted Aizen's direction. He felt the warmth of another body and gave an audible sigh. Not an assassin but just as annoying. He couldn't decide which he would prefer.

"You have your own room and your own bed," Sousuke reminded his newly arrived bedmate tersely, refusing to turn and acknowledge him.

"I just want to cuddle," Kisuke inserted innocently. In the faint light, Aizen could just barely make out the shadow of that damn hat sitting on his unwanted bedmate's head.

He was going to burn it one day; he swore to it.

Across the hall, more noises echoed. Somebody cursed, though it was a happy and pleasure-filled curse. Another cry of "Justice" filled the air.

Sousuke twitched.

"Gets noisy at night," Kisuke commented with a hum. The bed creaked as he shifted around to make himself comfortable, obviously not planning to leave anytime soon.

Aizen groaned helplessly. "In the morning, I'm soundproofing the rooms," he declared. Kisuke inched nearer and then fingers were running through Sousuke's hair, tousling bed-tossed locks. "And putting a lock on my door."

"Oh, I know you don't mean that, Sou-kun," Kisuke teased with a defining nod, inching ever closer. Really, there was hardly any space between them.

Somehow, his king sized bed just wasn't large enough.

"According to them, you call me Aizen-sama," he responded with a smirk, thinking of a snippet of the conversation he had managed to overhear.

Kisuke chuckled. "I'll call you anything you want." Fingers dropped from his hair to trace Sousuke's lips, over and over.

Aizen resisted the urge to bite the damn finger off. It would be bloody, after all, and he didn't want to clean at three in the damn morning.

"I think somebody's lonely."

"How can I be?" Sousuke demanded, doing his utmost best to ignore the other presence in his room and the increasingly louder voices. "I'm never _alone_."

One leg, bare he belatedly realized, slid against his, also bare since he preferred to sleep that way.

"I know," Kisuke responded merrily, a glint of mischief in his tone. "I'll never leave you alone."

Sousuke sighed and simply let Kisuke do as he wanted. He had learned long ago that it was better that way. And if he didn't encourage, eventually Kisuke would stop on his own. Usually. Sometimes. When he felt like it. Really, it was all up to the shopkeeper's moods.

Another cry rose up from across the hall.

"Hmm, sounds like Ichigo-kun is having a _really_ good night," Kisuke hummed in Aizen's ear, finger tracing along Sousuke's throat. "Though I could have done without Kana-chan's input."

Sousuke nearly choked and idly wondered if Ulquiorra would mind a bed companion for the night.

Just this once.

* * *

a/n: Is it wrong that I find this incredibly hilarious? I couldn't stop laughing as I wrote it. Poor, poor Aizen. -shakes head-

And with this comes the end of the "fillers". I should be returning to the regularly scheduled plot after this, which means I need to get off my ass and write them. Heh.

I do hope you found this as amusing as I did, though the Tousen thing is more of an inside joke between my beta and myself. I'm curious to see if anyone else finds Tousen's complete obsession with Justice to be disconcerting. Justice, justice, justice. -shudders- Ahem.

Comments are always welcome!


	21. Bitter Masquerade

**Title: Bitter Masquerade**

**Characters: Byakuya, Renji, Rukia, and Hueco Mundo cast**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Language**

**Words: 3,480**

**Description: Taking a great risk to save her brother, Rukia and Renji head into Hueco Mundo. **

* * *

Byakuya woke up the nauseating feeling of movement and a face full of black fabric. His arms were dangling downwards, fingers brushing against some type of cloth as his belly jarred against a rather hard shoulder.

It took several seconds for the truth to seep in.

He was being carried. Over someone's shoulder. Slung like baggage or a sack of vegetables.

And to make matters worse, he could definitely feel a breeze across his bare legs, as well as the arm locked around his knees to keep him from falling. A somewhat cool wind whispered across his bare feet. He was still in his hospital gown, the thin fabric definitely not enough to keep out the strange chill.

The indignity could not have possibly been any worse were it not for the fact that a whiff of subtle scents and a very familiar baritone identified his kidnapper. His own vice-captain had apparently stolen him from the fourth division while he was under the influence of Unohana's strong sedatives. And the bastard had somehow conned his sister into helping.

"Renji," Byakuya growled out through clenched teeth, cutting into their quiet discussion on the origin of the bare trees around them. "Put. Me. Down." He beat a fist against his vice-captain's back, just in case the younger man hadn't heard him.

Rather than immediately obey, Renji scoffed. "Make me, hime," he taunted and gave his reluctant burden a little hitch that made Byakuya's breath catch.

The Kuchiki heir fought the urge to scramble for something to hold on to.

Rukia's face came into view as she dropped back, looking sheepishly at her brother. "I brought your stuff for you, nii-sama," she explained, showing him the armful of belongings. He could barely make out his expensive scarf, the Kenseikan, and a few other odds and ends.

Byakuya, however, was no more pleased than he had been before.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" he demanded with an attempt to use his most commanding voice. It was the one that made all his subordinates freeze in their tracks, hearts skipping a beat. "Abarai Renji, your taichou demands that you put him down."

It was so disconcerting to be ass up in a hospital gown in what was probably hostile territory. Not to mention all the blood was rushing to his head, making his face take on a reddish sheen that was not dignified in the slightest.

"Don't look like much of a taichou now," Renji scoffed, tightening his hold around Byakuya's knees. "You couldn't even beat an Academy student."

There was the sound of a smack as Rukia popped her friend across the head, ignoring his cry of pain and immediate flinch. Renji's free hand rubbed at the offended portion of his empty skull, as though it had actually hurt.

"Don't taunt nii-sama," she scolded. "You'll hurt his feelings. Besides, his injuries are still sensitive. You know what Unohana-taichou said. The first few months would be difficult."

"I can hear you," Byakuya snarled, his jaw beginning to pain from the effort of clenching his teeth. His fingers curled into useless fists.

Both of them ignored him.

Renji scowled. "Ya didn't have ta hit me."

"It's the only way to get common sense through your thick skull," Rukia countered knowingly as she shifted the weight of Byakuya's belongings in her arms.

They were still ignoring him.

"What do you two think you're doing!" Byakuya ordered. He thumped a fist against his vice-captain's back for good measure; Renji could handle a little beating. "And where are we?"

Rukia returned to his field of vision, all traces of teasing gone from her expression. "The only place that I could think of to get help," she answered in all seriousness, looking partially apologetic.

"And that would be?"

"Hueco Mundo, tai… err, I mean, Kuchiki-sama," Renji answered for Rukia and shifted Byakuya's weight again with a little bounce that made the noble's head spin.

His belly kept shoving into the broad length of Renji's shoulders, knocking the breath out of him. Even so, Byakuya managed a burst of surprise.

Grey eyes widened. "What?"

An apologetic look was cast his way. "It was either that or living without your powers," Rukia said.

And for once, he was glad for her short stature. It meant he could see her without having to strain his neck.

"Besides, Ichigo is here, and I need to talk to him."

He remembered the orange-haired Vizard breaking into his home. Byakuya remembered that all too well. And also the other unwanted guests. It was Ichigo who had caused his current predicament, who had stripped him of his powers. Who had made him lower than a runt from Rukongai.

His fingers clenched into angry fists where they gripped onto Renji's back, digging into hard muscle.

"Kurosaki is the one who did this to me," Byakuya stated coldly, the very air around them taking on a Hyourinmaru-esque chill.

Renji hissed and sucked in a pained breath. "Easy, Kuchiki-hime. That fuckin' hurts."

It was made all the more humiliating by his vice-captain's treatment of him. To be stripped of his title by his subordinate was a crushing blow, and Byakuya felt it every time Renji dropped the title of captain. Now, he had nothing but his status as head of the Kuchiki clan. Which considering his current location, meant absolutely nothing.

"He did a lot of things," Rukia answered, her tone filled with a measure of hurt as she easily ignored Renji's pained look. "And I'm beginning to think we deserved it."

"We" of course meaning Soul Society.

Renji chose that moment to come to a sudden halt, disturbing his burden with the abrupt lack of motion. At least, he was finally able to focus on the white sand beneath them and look around their current position without making his head spin.

The vice-captain cleared his throat. "Uh, Rukia?"

Prompted by his uncertainty, she turned away from comforting her brother and stepped beside Renji.

Byakuya couldn't see what was in front of him, and it irked him. The feeling of being watched, of being in danger, crawled across his skin. And he couldn't defend himself. He was as helpless as a child. Yet another humiliating strike against him.

There was the sound of some type of footwear stepping across the shifting sands.

Rukia's voice joined the soft noise. "They sent _you_ to meet us?" she questioned, her tone filled with surprise and disbelief. And recognition.

It was someone she knew then. Not that that particular knowledge helped Byakuya in the slightest.

He twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the new arrival but couldn't get a good view. His damn broad vice-captain was simply too big. And _still_ carrying him. Byakuya swore that as soon as he regained his Shinigami powers, he would take several pieces out of his lieutenant. Including a shock of that hair he seemed to love so much.

"Ya still haven't lost that retarded hat," Renji scoffed, his burden able to feel the rumble of his voice from his back. "Everyone else here, too? Yoruichi and Inoue-san and Ishida and all of 'em?"

"They're somewhere else," a voice answered, one that Byakuya recognized. It filled with amusement. "Who's the girl with the nice ass? I didn't think you were bringing guests."

He had thought the indignity couldn't get any worse. He was wrong.

"It's just nii-sama. He wouldn't have come quietly."

His damned vice-captain then proceeded to snicker, _snicker_, at his captain's expense. "Yeah, we were hopin' ya could fix him."

"I'm not a broken toy!" Byakuya hissed through clenched teeth, forcing himself to keep his legs from kicking in a childish tantrum.

There was a moment of silence as Urahara hummed musingly. "So I see," he finally commented.

Byakuya just imagined the look of bemusement on his face. He was being sufficiently ignored like a box of cargo.

They began to walk, and Byakuya sighed, rolling his eyes. He was getting really tired of this.

"We know you were able to get Ichigo's powers back," Rukia said hopefully.

"Ichigo was a special case," the shopkeeper reminded her, though he couldn't quite keep the giddy interest out of his tone. "But I'll see what I can do."

"I'm right here!" Byakuya seethed aloud.

"Where's Ichigo?" Rukia asked.

Ignored. Yet again.

"Follow me." There was a snap that sounded like the closing of a fan and the rustle of clothes. "I'll take you to him."

And suddenly, they were moving in flits of shunpo that made Byakuya's head spin. The abrupt change in speed, followed by being unable to sense reiatsu at all was throwing his mind completely. His stomach churned dizzily, and the urge to vomit rose up in him. He clutched onto the back of Renji's shihakushou as the scenery moved by on a blinding pace, and he just knew he would have bruises on his torso by the time the day was through.

Just when he felt he was about to lose his last meal on Renji's back, they came to an abrupt stop. He couldn't keep in the pathetic moan that escaped his lips, head spinning and nausea practically his only sensation. His hair was in even more disarray than before, and he just knew that his hospital gown had ridden up. But he didn't even care about his dignity anymore. He just wanted to not shunpo anymore.

Then, Renji turned just a bit, and Byakuya was able to get a glimpse of their current location. The sound of zanpakutou striking and summons for kidoh floated to his ears, even if he couldn't sense the reiatsu. He caught sight of Kurosaki and Kira sparring each other, Ichimaru overseeing with a look of near pride on his face. He lost the glance in the next moment as another groan escaped him.

"Don't worry, nii-sama," Rukia assured him, moving into his line of sight and patting him comfortingly on the back. "We'll get you fixed."

It didn't make him feel a whit better.

Byakuya gave up and laid his forehead on Renji's back. If only his head would stop spinning.

"Oy!" Kurosaki's voice floated to his ears. "Rukia! Renji!"

And then, he was suddenly closer, likely having used shunpo to cross the distance. He paused and then popped around to Renji's back. Byakuya just knew he was being stared at.

"Hey, Byakuya," Ichigo added and waved his hand in front of the Kuchiki noble's face.

He received the full force of a glacial, Kuchiki glare for his efforts. It didn't phase the former substitute Shinigami one bit.

"He came, after all," Ichimaru added and meandered to their location a bit more slowly. His vice-captain, _the traitor _Byakuya reminded himself, was at his side. "Looks like we convinced ya."

Byakuya's grip on Renji's shihakushou tightened. "Hardly."

Beside his vice-captain, Rukia stiffened. Byakuya wasn't surprised. Ichimaru was one of her least favorite people, something about the smiling man having always set her on edge. Yet, she kept her mouth closed. Very wise considering they were in enemy territory and invading at that.

"Aizen's already waiting for you," Ichigo explained, shifting around to see Renji and Rukia's face.

Byakuya felt Renji tense at the sound of the traitor's name. Byakuya himself felt instantly wary.

"Waiting for us?" he repeated, the whole incidence striking him as suspicious.

Urahara had come to meet them, after all. As if Aizen had been expecting them to come or knew they were there.

"Yes," Ichigo answered as the group began to move again, thankfully not using shunpo, which meant they must have been close to Las Noches.

The former substitute stepped in line behind Renji, letting Urahara lead, so that he could speak to Byakuya. The noble knew what Ichigo was seeing. A once-proud noble dangling from his vice-captain's shoulder, hair askew and face reddened from the odd position.

"We had a feeling you'd be coming," Ichigo elaborated and eyed the Kuchiki heir. "Though I'm surprised how quickly."

Byakuya glowered in Ichigo's direction, though the effect was lost considering his current state of attire. "You did this to me," he stated coldly. "How dare you?"

Gin shrugged. And it was only then that Byakuya noticed the two men were walking side by side, fingers interlaced.

"Calm down there, hime. We couldn't have ya fightin' us durin' the war, now could we? 'Sides, it's not like we hurt ya."

"You killed Hitsugaya," Byakuya countered. "What makes me any different?"

A variety of emotions crossed Ichigo's face, most of them unrecognizable. "He deserved it," Ichigo said frostily. "And that's all I'm going to say about that."

From the look in brown eyes, Byakuya decided not to question anymore, feeling a trace of fear thread through his belly. There was something there, a slow burning fury that still had not been sated. A part of him didn't want to know what betrayal the now deceased captain had done to invoke Ichigo's fury. Even Byakuya had not been so hated after his deeds during the time of Rukia's planned execution.

Kira dropped back to greet Byakuya, bowing his head faintly. "Kuchiki-san," he said gently but in a stronger voice than the noble had ever heard him utilize. "I'm glad that you were able to come."

"You say that like I had a choice."

Ichigo lifted his shoulders. "Choice or not, you're here now. Best to make the most of it."

"I will keep that in mind," Byakuya responded, squaring his jaw.

Like hell. He had no intention of joining Aizen's little rebellion or making niceties with the enemy. He wasn't a traitor, like the others, and Byakuya aimed to prove it.

Just as soon as he saw Aizen.

* * *

The large room was rather devoid of extravagant markings, but with its high throne, it suited Aizen's foolish belief in his own supremacy. Their presence was announced by Urahara, throwing open the doors with a flourish, Benihime tapping against the polished floor.

"I brought guests, Sou-kun," he announced, something sparkling in shadowed eyes as he took his position. It was on the right arm of Aizen's throne, to Byakuya's surprise, prompting the former captain to sigh in ever-patient annoyance.

Kurosaki, Ichimaru, and Kira abandoned those they were escorting in the doorway, taking up their own positions. At the base of Aizen's throne stood Tousen, somewhere off to the right, present but not really making a presence. Ichimaru found his place at Aizen's left hand, Kurosaki standing just beside him. Kira was nearby to Kurosaki and behind, appearing as though he was merely a retainer.

"Could you _please_ put me down," Byakuya asked in the most courteous voice he could muster. All demands had proved useless, after all.

Renji shifted his weight on his shoulder, grinding a broad shoulder into Byakuya's hip. "Ya still might run away."

"Where would I go?" Byakuya demanded exasperatedly, forcing himself not to do something as undignified as wriggle. "Where can I _possibly_ go?"

"I dunno. Somewhere," Renji answered with a shrug, prompting his burden to be simply astounded by his vice-captain's intelligence. Really, completely flummoxed.

And then, he sensed Renji cringe, the red-haired idiot making an actual attempt to hide behind Rukia. As if a pineapple-headed moron wouldn't be noticed in the large hall. Twisting around, Byakuya caught sight of one of the Espada waving to him, a pink-haired man with a smile that reminded him all too much of Kurotsuchi.

It was then that Byakuya noticed, a bit belatedly, that they were surrounded by the enemy. Two Arrancar closed the doors behind them, standing in front and easily blockading the only exit Byakuya could see. The Espada, all ten… No, nine, one was missing. All nine of them lining up on either side of the room. And was one of them a _child_?

Apparently so because the green-haired creature was starting to wander his direction, a distinctly Yachiru-like gleam in her eyes.

"Welcome," Aizen stated with a trace of amusement in his tone that was completely uncalled for. "You may put your burdens down."

There was a snort that really sounded like laughter. Byakuya wasn't sure who it was coming from. But he was determined that when he did find out, they would regret it. The situation was not funny in the slightest.

"Alright... um... Aizen-tai...chou." Renji shrugged and finally, _finally_ set Byakuya down on his own two legs.

The switch in position left him somewhat dizzy, and he hated that Renji's hands on his shoulders were the only thing keeping him from toppling over in an instant. He drew himself up straight, hands trying to simultaneously pat down his hair and adjust his robe into something resembling dignity. He donned his noble facade like one would an elegant fabric, trying to find his pride somewhere amongst the scrap-heap where Renji had oh-so-neatly thrown it.

The child wandered his directly. "He's pretty, Itsygo," she commented in a tone of wonder. "Can we keep 'im?" She blinked innocently up at Byakuya.

He wasn't fooled. Children were conniving demons. Yachiru was the perfect example. Therefore, the small Arrancar received one of his best Kuchiki glares, even if its effect was slightly lost.

"No, you cannot," he retorted stiffly, nearly shying away from the sticky fingers that were practically reaching for his _hospital gown_. It irked them that he happened to be inching towards his vice-captain, as though asking for Renji's protection. His ire increased.

Above him, looking down on his visitors, Aizen was most definitely amused. "Renji-kun, Rukia-chan, Byakuya-hime... Your arrival was not entirely unexpected," he commented, suffering from the hands that seemed to be running through his hair.

Byakuya couldn't understand how he would allow that from Urahara. It was baffling.

"So we've heard," the Kuchiki noble responded, one hand still trying to situate his clothing into something presentable. Alas, there wasn't much of the fabric to work with, wrinkled beyond compare. "What do you want?"

The former fifth-division captain lifted a brow as the shopkeeper beside him snickered. "What do I want? An odd question considering that it is you who has come to me."

Rukia stepped up beside her brother, her voice remarkably even considering the nervousness he could see in her eyes. "We wanted to talk to Ichigo. And to help nii-sama."

Aizen seemed on the verge of laughter. "And you thought I would be willing to offer aid? To my very own enemies?"

She blanched faintly at the hint of malice in his tone, realizing that she was indeed surrounded by her enemies. Yet, she stood firm. Byakuya was rather proud of her as she displayed a great amount of courage.

"Yes."

"Brave," a nearby Espada commented, one at the head of the line with brown hair and a goatee. He thumbed his chin, remnants of his Hollow's mask sitting on his collarbone. "And very, very foolish."

"You do realize, now that you are here, I cannot allow you to leave," Aizen commented. His gaze, no longer hampered by the ugly glasses, studied each of them closely.

Renji shifted. "We were willin' ta take the risk."

"He does speak," Tousen commented dryly, voice thick with disdain. "Though the question of intelligence remains unanswered. Both are hardly worth our time, Aizen-sama."

From the corner of his eye, Byakuya caught sight of Renji reddening with embarrassment or possibly anger. His hands curled into fists, but he displayed restraint for once, somehow understanding that it was unwise to provoke their enemies. Byakuya applauded him inwardly for that, even as he felt his own surge of annoyance. That had been uncalled for. His dislike for Tousen grew, making him wonder if anyone even liked the justice-obsessed man.

Aizen, however, was displeased, his eyes finding the other traitor. "Kaname," he began, tone enough to make the blue-haired Arrancar to Byakuya's left wince in subtle fear. "Refrain from insulting our guests. It is unbecoming."

There was a sniff and a shallow bow. "As you say, Aizen-sama."

"Guests," Byakuya repeated doubtfully.

"Of course." Aizen stood, dislodging Urahara from his place at the brunet's side. "Though uninvited. You are certainly not my prisoners."

Renji snorted, the lingering feelings of insult granting him courage to speak. "Guests who can't leave."

"A matter of self-preservation," Aizen corrected and gestured faintly to them. "You came to me for help, not the other way around. Therefore, you are guests."

Urahara nodded, rising to his own feet and snapping a fan out of nowhere. "And I'll get right to work on fixing Byakushi," he added cheerily. "I think I've a few things that I'll try."

The devious gleam did not bode well for Byakuya's health.

The look Aizen tossed Urahara's way was ever-patient before he returned his attention to his guests. "That is settled then." He looked them over, evaluating and confirming. "Welcome to Las Noches."

Somehow, Byakuya wasn't particularly enthused.

* * *

a/n: Yep. Back to the plot. And must I say that I enjoy writing Byakuya here. He's just so amusing. Heh. The next piece continues with this, finally showing Rukia and Renji's conversation with Ichigo.

Hope you enjoyed!


	22. OneSided Symphony

**Title: One-Sided Symphony**

**Characters: Ichigo, Rukia, Renji**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Hinted Sexual Abuse, Implied Yaoi, Slight Language **

**Words: 2,631**

**Description: Takes place directly after **_**Bitter Masquerade. **_**Rukia and Renji finally have their chance to confront Ichigo. **

* * *

Their waraji was a faint scrape in the mostly empty halls of Las Noches. Ichigo walked beside Renji and Rukia, knowing the questions that had to be brewing on their minds. Both had been mostly silent since he had led them from Aizen's throne room, showing them to their quarters as Aizen had commanded. Byakuya had been scooped up by Gin and Urahara, the geta-boushi making plans to examine him.

"Ichigo."

Rukia was the one to break the tentative quiet between them.

"We asked around, but no one would give us a straight answer. Why did you leave?"

"Why did you?" Ichigo returned.

And it wasn't until then that he realized he still retained some of his mistrust. These two, who he had long considered friends and were even now walking beside him, he just couldn't look at them the same. Not when he knew what Soul Society had planned to do to him and those he cared about.

On her other side, Renji glared. "'Cause we wanted answers."

Rukia elbowed him immediately, ignoring his glower of pain. "Because of what you did to nii-sama. And because of what Zaraki-taichou said. But we don't know the whole story."

"You don't need to," Ichigo answered, tone short and clipped. "Just know that they were going to kill Orihime and the geta-boushi. And I was next."

Two pairs of eyes widened in astonishment.

"I don't understand. Why would they do that?" Rukia had a hand over her mouth.

"We were too dangerous," Ichigo answered evenly enough. "Hanatarou told me as much."

They passed a few Arrancar, most of them appearing to be either Halibel's or Grimmjow's fraccion. They were wise enough to lower their eyes and hurry on, disliking the appearance of the Shinigami. Ichigo wasn't surprised. They'd had the same response to him all those months ago, though now they were on rather friendly terms most of the time.

Yet another example of the Kurosaki Effect. The ability to turn an enemy into his best friend.

"That's why he disappeared," Renji commented aloud. "I asked fer him at the fourth a month or so ago, and no one could give me a straight answer there either."

Ichigo nodded. "I sent him away with my family."

"Sado, Ishida, and Orihime, too?" Rukia asked.

"Yes."

The two Shinigami exchanged a glance, silently conferring before their attention was stolen by their surroundings. Stark white walls. Passing Arrancar. High ceilings. Unlabeled doors and corridors that seemed unending. It was easy to tell by their tense shoulders that they were on edge, bodies poised as if prepared to fight at any moment.

Ichigo looked at them, nearly rolling his eyes. "Take your hands off your zanpakutou. You look like you're ready for a fight."

"Well, excuse us fer not feelin' comfortable here," Renji grumbled, though he wisely obeyed, abandoning his grip on Zabimaru's hilt.

"It was your choice to come," Ichigo reminded him.

Rukia pursed her lips. "You could try to be a little happy to see us," she said crossly, looking three steps away from hitting him as she planted her hands on her hips. "You were missing for over half a year. We thought you were dead."

He ground to a halt, whirling on the two of them. A bevy of emotions flickered through his expression.

"You didn't know anything?" Ichigo asked with surprise. "Really didn't know?" A sense of relief crept across his face.

His friends simply looked at him, as if unable to believe he would doubt them without even asking first.

Ichigo sighed. "I should've known you would follow me."

Renji scoffed. "Rukia's idea. Not mine."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo started moving again, picking up the pace. They were forced to fall in line with him again, lest they get lost in the confusing halls of Las Noches.

"So," Rukia began conversationally, though her tone was brimming with curiosity. "What's up with Urahara and Aizen?"

Somehow, Ichigo had been expecting this question. "They're special friends." He shrugged.

"What the hell's that mean?" Renji demanded.

A part of him was amused by playing stupid, even if his lack of knowledge was halfway true. And Gin was being particularly hush-hush about the matter. "It's not my story ta tell," he had said and then distracted Ichigo with a particularly steamy kiss.

"I honestly don't know."

Renji and Rukia exchanged another look.

"Are they just buddies like ya and me?" Renji suggested rather tentatively. "Like Yumi and Ikkaku?"

"Or are they..." Rukia made some faint gesture with her hand that had her flicking her wrist and twiddling her fingers. "You know?"

Ichigo blinked. "What the fuck does that mean?" he asked, copying the movement she had made. He looked to Renji, but the other man seemed just as confused.

"Don't ask me. I don't know what it means either." He scratched his red head.

Rukia looked at the two males as if they were idiots. "You should know what it means, Ichigo. Since you are... You know." She made the gesture again.

A vein ticked in Ichigo's forehead. "What? Really fucking strong?" He was being deliberately difficult.

Understanding dawned on Renji, and he scoffed. "No. Really fucking Ichimaru."

Ichigo froze, whirling on them and glaring angrily. "Yeah. And if you have a problem with it, we can settle it now." He warned, voice low and dangerous. There was something on his face, something unnamable but intense.

The others blinked at him. Renji even backpedaled a step at the fire flashing in Ichigo's eyes, which had shifted to gold.

Rukia tentatively stepped forward and gathered Ichigo's attention. "We don't, but... how did it happen? I mean, you barely even know him." She made a placating gesture, pleading for understanding.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ichigo tilted his head slightly. "I barely even knew you, but you still slept in my closet."

"Yeah, but that's all we ever did," Rukia retorted, temper flaring again. "Never anything else."

"And maybe that shoulda been your first sign," Renji muttered under his breath, trying not to appear too cowed by Ichigo's subtle display of aggression.

Glaring, Rukia reached up and slapped Renji upside the head. "Shut up, idiot. The grown-ups are talking."

Rubbing the back of his skull, Renji settled for giving her a churlish glare. But he didn't retaliate. It was against the code to hit women, after all. Even if the woman in question was Rukia, who was too short and flat-chested to really count.

Returning her attention back to Ichigo, Rukia continued the conversation. "If you were just lonely, it's not a big deal. This was… _is_ a strange and new place." She motioned around her. "And you were without us, without your friends. Besides, I could hardly see you going to one of the Arrancar." She made a face at just the thought.

"Or Aizen and Tousen, fer that matter," Renji commented in an undertone, ducking as Rukia absentmindedly tried to smack him again.

Ichigo frowned, his irritation growing. "That's not it." He squared his jaw. "I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand." He turned to look away, deeply wishing that Gin were here but also grateful that the man didn't have to hear this. His lover didn't need to have his own insecurities shoved in his face, after all.

"Is it because you both have a Hollow," Rukia tried again, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "That he could relate and wasn't afraid. It's not like we ever had a problem with it or anything." She wisely didn't mention Orihime's initial reaction to the mask.

"You didn't. Soul Society did," Ichigo corrected with a roll of his still golden eyes. "Besides, it's not just that."

Renji scoffed, "Yer not in love with him, are ya?" He gave a snort filled with obvious disbelief.

Looking three steps away from hitting him again, Rukia hissed, "Renji!"

"No, he's right," Ichigo interrupted before she could bring more violence into the corridor. He met both of their eyes evenly. "I am. I do love him."

And it was so easy to admit.

The two Shinigami exchanged yet another confused glance, gaze darting between Ichigo and each other. Rukia shifted in discomfort, Renji's hand returning to his zanpakutou as though he needed the simple touch.

"Are ya sure that's what it is?" Renji asked with incredulity. "Yer still a kid, yanno."

He and Rukia conversed wordlessly again, obviously having some sort of discussion as they came to their own conclusions. Their eyes met, conveying all manner of things without any sound.

Finally, Rukia looked at Ichigo again.

"I know that you've never… _been_ with anyone else before, Ichigo. Are you sure of what you feel?" she asked very softly and with a deceptive casualness. "Maybe you were just lonely. Simply needed a friend."

"He didn't take advantage of ya, did he?" Renji added rather thoughtlessly. "When ya were here and alone. Without even Urahara-san."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he said frostily, not liking at all where they were headed.

They didn't know Gin, not really. Not at all. They didn't know how unsure he could be, how afraid he was that Ichigo would one day decide to leave. Didn't know that Gin was powerful beyond their wildest dreams but far more fragile within than out. That his hair was soft and his eyes warm. Hands and fingers adoring if not always gentle.

They didn't know that he was the only reason Ichigo had yet to completely lose his temper.

"He didn't force you or anything, did he?" Rukia clarified, cutting into his thoughts. She watched him with obvious concern. "Make you do things with him? Hurt you in any way?"

Renji added in his two bits, "Matsumoto said that bein' with him was painful enough. She'd know, af--"

He was about to go on, but a sudden flare of reiatsu silenced him. His mouth snapped shut. And the hall went deathly quiet.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Ichigo said in a dangerous tone, echoing with his Hollow's anger. "I'd be careful what you say and what rumors you bring up around here. Especially since the lot of them aren't true."

The two Shinigami could only nod weakly, Ichigo's intentions clear to them.

Sensing their comprehension, the Vizard took a deep breath. "I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded, and that you're just thinking of my best interest. But you're in Las Noches now. I would be careful what you say and who you say it to. Aizen won't take kindly to you badmouthing his heir." He felt the gold slowly seep out of his eyes as he exhaled. "And I won't hear you talk like that about Gin. You don't know him like I do. And you never will."

He was met with twin wide-eyed stares as they absorbed that information. Nevertheless, it soaked in very slowly.

"But... he murdered Hitsugaya," Renji spluttered, obviously grasping for anything. One hand pulled at his hair in frustration.

Ichigo gave him a cold smirk. "No, that was Izuru-chan," he responded, mimicking the way Gin spoke of his vice-captain.

Rukia and Renji blanched at that, and Ichigo knew what they were thinking. Izuru didn't seem the least bit violent or capable of real harm towards another. He was too nice, too gentle. Whereas Ichimaru was the evil one, the only capable of raping and pillaging and massive amounts of murder and mayhem.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"Inoue wasn't the only one the little bastard was after," Ichigo added just for their benefit.

Rukia shook her head doubtfully, looking up at him. "What's happened to you, Ichigo? It's like we don't even recognize you anymore. Letting your Hollow out freely? Not to mention all the rest." She twisted her hands together.

Ichigo turned away. "Maybe you didn't know me that well in the first place."

Several seconds passed before that little revelation sunk in. Ichigo knew when they recognized it. That he wasn't the substitute Shinigami anymore. That he was no longer Soul Society's lapdog. He was now a Vizard, a true hybrid. Aizen's Ichigo. His loyal friend and follower.

_Gin's_ Ichigo. Lover. Friend. Defender. And so much more.

He no longer belonged to them.

Rukia shifted uncomfortably, clearly not knowing what to do with this different Ichigo. Renji, however, was far less contained.

"Are we gonna have ta fight?" he blurted out, apparently having been sitting on this question for some time.

Ichigo resumed his pace, leading them down another curved hall that was the same as all the others. "Not if you don't want to. But you might want to stick close to Byakuya."

"Aizen said we wouldn't be hurt," Rukia insisted, fingers starting to creep towards Sode no Shirayuki again.

"And you won't," Ichigo answered and raked a hand through his hair. "But accidents happen, even here. Las Noches is a big place, and Hollows do wander around freely. And some won't appreciate his attitude. Especially the lower Arrancar." He paused, a smirk stealing onto his lips. "Then again, Stark seems to like him. Byakuya probably won't need your protection."

Renji furrowed his brow and tried to recall all the Espada. "The Kyouraku-look-a-like?"

"La Primera Espada to be more precise," a voice smoothly interceded, melding from the shadows around them.

The two Shinigami jumped in surprise, hands immediately going to their weapons as their senses registered the threat. Ichigo merely glanced towards a nearby shadowed alcove and lifted a hand in greeting.

"Yo. Didn't expect to see you here."

Stark stepped out in front of them, lips twisted in amusement. "The boss wants you as soon as you're done showing them to a room," he said with a nod towards the two Shinigami, only giving them a passing glance.

Ichigo snickered. "Got you playing messenger-boy again?"

The Espada shrugged but smiled. "Whatever the boss commands, I obey." He flipped a hand in Ichigo's direction, already turning away. "Later, _mi amigo_."

"Do they always fuckin' do that?" Renji demanded, watching Stark promptly disappear into the shadows.

"You'll get used to it," Ichigo replied, suddenly stopping in front of a door to push it open and step into another hallway, this one lined with doors similar to an apartment complex or hotel. He gestured to two of them, directly across from each other. "These are your rooms. Byakuya's will be the next one down. Gin, the geta-boushi, Aizen, and I are on another hall. The Espada are just down from you." He pointed to half-hidden corridor at the very end of the one they were currently in.

"Just like that?" Rukia asked disbelievingly. "No demands to stay in our rooms?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Aizen said that you're free to roam around." He moved to head back the way he'd come. "I'll catch up with you guys later. I promised Nel and Halibel I'd play Go with them after lunch. You could join us if you want," he offered casually. "Izuru usually does."

They turned to watch him leave.

But Rukia grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could go more than a few paces. "Wait, Ichigo."

He paused, turning to look at her.

"You look happy," she inserted, something honest in her blue gaze. She let him go. "Ichimaru… regardless... I'm glad to see it."

It wasn't quite approval, not that Ichigo sought it, but something inside of him still warmed to hear her words. It didn't completely ease his annoyance with them, but it helped.

"Yeah. Me, too," he answered and turned, not wanting them to see the emotion in his eyes. "I'll have someone bring you some maps," he tossed over his shoulder. "Gin made them for me a while back. But I don't need them anymore."

And that was that.

* * *

a/n: Eh heh. This chapter was an absolute pain to write. Ichigo here is different than the Ichigo that Rukia and Renji used to know and balancing that with the current Rukia and Renji was really difficult. And I'm still not entirely certain I captured what I intended to capture. It was exhausting.

There's still a lot of unanswered questions and confusions, but this story's not yet finished. Plenty more to come. But ehhh, I don't know when the next chapter will be out because I haven't written it yet. -sweatdrop- Yeah, the muses have abandoned me in favor of _Of Violence_. But don't worry! I won't be abandoning this. I'll do my best to put out another piece within the next two weeks!

Until then, feel free to read the prequel my lovely beta, Lady Azar, wrote for the whole series. It's a short little drabble-y piece, but it gives Hanatarou's view. The link's in my profile. So give her some love, too. It's good!

Thanks everyone!


	23. Points of Engagement

a/n: Yes! An update. And no, it's not long plot or anything of the like. I'm still working on that. This is just a little filler teaser to remind you that I'm still here and I'll be coming back eventually. It's shameless fluff, but I'm fond of it, so I think you'll like it, too. Enjoy!

**Title: Points of Engagement**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo**

**Words: 1166**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: mild bondage, sappy fluff**

**Description: Gin has a gift for Ichigo. Takes place sometime after _The Twilight Hour_ and before _Bitter Masquerade. _  
**

* * *

The quiet was soft and peaceful, the only noise in the room the soft breath of wind from beyond the open window and the sound of Ichigo's steady breathing. He lay on his belly, head tucked on one arm and the other sprawled out carelessly, lightly dozing. The lean lines of his nude back were bared by a drooping sheet, which was pulled down to the base of his spine and covering the lower portions of his unclothed frame.

Beside him, Gin admired the view. Perched on his side, one elbow propping him up. He leaned over a few scant inches and pressed a light kiss to Ichigo's shoulder. Warm flesh met his lips. The sleeping teen barely stirred.

A smile, that was far from his usual sarcastic smirk and filled with something a bit more fond instead, crossed his lips. Ichigo was cute when he slept, the frown lines erasing from his face and the furrows of a scowl leaving his forehead. He looked his age for once, the careless and fun-loving teenager he should have been.

Gin reached out with his free hand and gently danced his fingers along Ichigo's spine. A twitch met his touch and he bent his lips towards Ichigo's ear. His voice lowered to a sultry whisper.

"I got somethin' for ya," he purred, hoping to entice Ichigo into waking.

He had waited long enough after all. It was time he stopped procrastinating and followed through with his plans. He was sure of his feelings and was certain Ichigo felt the same. It was just a symbol anyways. Just a symbol.

He watched as Ichigo's eyelids flickered and he murmured sleepily in the back of his throat. "Tired," he breathed on the end of a sigh. "Later."

Gin wasn't really surprised; he _had_ worn his lover out earlier. Both with sparring and with after-sparring exercise. But he wasn't planning on continuing those activities, which was what Ichigo was expecting.

He chuckled softly. "Not that, Ichigo," he replied, pressing another kiss to the tempting shoulder in front of him. "But just as good. Ya have ta wake up though."

Shifting, and repressing a sigh, Ichigo peeled open his eyes slowly. Brown eyes focused on Gin's face, which was both serious and yet, also smiling. An almost strange combination. Ichigo realized, then, that Gin was trying to tell him something.

Rolling over, he drew himself up into a sitting position, the sheets pooling around his waist. One hand rubbed over his face to help wake him up. "What is it, Gin?"

Pleased that he finally had the attention he had been seeking, Gin held up a finger for a moment and turned to lean over the bed. After digging around for a moment in the clutter they tended to shove beneath it, he pulled out a box. It was long, about the length of his forearm, and plainly wrapped, but the way he held it, Ichigo could tell it was important.

He held it out to Ichigo and watched as confusion filtered into his sleepy expression. Ichigo lifted a hand to take the offered gift, but before he could, Gin pulled it back. And then he couldn't help but kiss Ichigo, drawn by the muddled look that was simply too cute. Ichigo pressed their lips together with a slow, but satisfying kiss. Yet, Gin was the first to draw away.

"I'm not sayin' ya have to take it," he explained softly. "I'm just makin' the offer."

"Okay," Ichigo agreed, but he still wasn't quite sure what was going on.

Gin watched him as he took the box, and wondered if the rapid beating of his heart was anticipation or maybe just an edge of trepidation.

He pulled off the thin outer layer to find a long box inside. Prying open the lid revealed something pale blue pooled in the bottom. Ichigo reached in and pulled out the item, letting fabric slip through his fingers.

It was a sash, Ichigo belatedly realized. One to replace the dark blue obi of neutrality he currently used. And it was in Gin's color. He would basically be declaring just whom he belonged to in Hueco Mundo, not that everyone didn't already know who held his heart.

"This...?"

A hint of anxiety filtered into Gin's practically bubbling reaitsu. "I won't be hurt if ya say no," Gin told him quietly, though it was obvious his tone was filled with hope. "A man's gotta have his pride 'nd all. But just in case--"

Ichigo didn't give him the chance to finish whatever he was going to say. He grabbed Gin's chin with his free hand and pulled their mouths together, kissing him deeply. His tongue slipped past Gin's lips to meet his own tongue, sliding together. He wasn't so blind that he couldn't recognize the gift for what it truly was.

Perhaps on some level, it might have represented a sort of possession, but Gin was a man after all. And they tended to jealousy guard what was theirs. Ichigo, however, knew that there was something deeper. A declaration of love.

No one else in Hueco Mundo wore Gin's colors, no Arrancar. No Shinigami who had wandered to their side. Not even Izuru had been offered or accepted Gin's colors just yet. It was as much Gin telling him he trusted him as it was that he loved him. And Ichigo couldn't think of a gift more precious.

When the kiss ended, Ichigo had a smile to offer his lover. "The other one's been getting a little frayed," he said, rubbing a thumb over the satiny fabric. "Every since Stark snagged it on his blade."

Gin lifted a brow, infinitely pleased. "Oh? Ya forced him to draw his zanpakutou again?"

The teenager nodded, but it was distracted as he lowered his hand and began to fiddle with the gift. "Yeah. He's getting pretty annoyed by it." He paused and reconsidered. "Well, as annoyed as Stark gets."

"Righ'," Gin responded, but it, too, was distracted. He looked down, finding that Ichigo was ever-so-carefully, winding the sash around his thin wrists. "Ichigo... what're ya doin'?"

Brown eyes looked up to him as he paused, "Is this okay?" he asked. "I can stop if it bothers you." Fingers were already reaching for the knot.

Gin shook his head, a leer replacing his grin of happiness. "Nah. I was just checkin'," he answered, and leaned in for a kiss. But Ichigo fell back a space, a playful look on his face.

"Punishment," he declared, tying the last knot with a light jerk. He leaned forward, just out of Gin's reach. "For waking me up."

And damn but Gin thought that a confident Ichigo was the sexiest thing in the world. He had the feeling it would be the most satisfactory punishment he had ever received.

* * *

a/n: Okay, so admittedly I teased you a bit by not going into the good part, but it's the thought that counts, right? I've finished the first part of the next piece, _A Toppling Mistake_. And I'm in the midst of the second part. If I feel it's going good, you should see the first part soon. Hopefully, my muses will stay with me. This story, too, is drawing to a close. At least, the plot part of it is. There's still plenty more little side bits to come though.

I hope you liked.


	24. A Toppling Mistake Part I

**Title: A Toppling Mistake (Part I)**

**Characters: Hueco Mundo cast, Ichigo/Gin, Yoruichi**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Violence, Language, boy/boy smut **

**Words: 7402  
**

**Description: Their first mistake wasn't enough.**

* * *

Ichigo was paying attention.

Or to be more precise, he was _attempting _to pay attention. He sat up straight in his seat and watched Aizen explain their moves; his ears caught each echo of the man's voice. Yet, his senses were somewhere else entirely. More specifically, on the tabi-clad foot that kept creeping up and down his leg.

He knew who the perpetrator was. Probably everybody in the meeting hall knew the reason for the faint blush high on his cheeks. That didn't make Gin any easier to ignore, however.

In order to distract himself from his lover's rather successful attempts to arouse him, Ichigo focused his attention on those present. Rukia, Renji, and Byakuya – unsurprisingly – were not among them. The Shinigami were not quite adjusting to life in Las Noches. They still refused to join Aizen's cause, not that Ichigo expected them to, and yet so selfishly requested help. The geta-boushi was providing it simply for the sake of his own amusement in trying to _fix_ Byakuya.

Ichigo felt no pity for the Kuchiki noble. He thought that Byakuya probably deserved it. Maybe it would teach the man something about humility.

As if on cue, Aizen chose that moment to shift the topic at hand. "I would like to take this chance to discuss our current _guests_," the lord of Hueco Mundo stated, hands propped on the table as he swept his gaze over his gathered commanders – the top five Espada, Ichigo, Tousen, Izuru, Gin, and the geta-boushi. Though Ichigo highly doubted that Aizen _commanded_ Urahara to do much of anything.

Beside Ichigo, Stark emitted a sound that might have been a snort at Aizen's declaration. But Ulquiorra at least sat up straighter.

"What about them, Aizen-sama?" he queried.

And Ichigo had the faint thought of '_teacher's pet_' as he rolled his eyes.

Gin's foot rose higher on his thigh. The smirk of victory on his face was pretty plainly obvious to everyone, and Ichigo wondered if Aizen even noticed all the groping that was clearly in the works. He shifted in his chair but only succeeded in making Gin's path easier. Heat was beginning to stain Ichigo's cheeks as he hissed a warning under his breath, but his lover was either pretending not to hear him or purposefully ignoring him.

"I would like to stress that they are not to be harmed," Aizen continued, his voice keeping that authoritative tone and his orders came with a certain pulse of reiatsu that made the Espada flinch. Though the effort didn't even show in Aizen's expression. "Which means that I leave it to you to issue the order to the lower ranks so that they understand this. I will not tolerate any attempts at consuming our Shinigami guests. Clear?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra was quick to agree, and the others claimed more or less the same.

Stark grunted, which was taken as an agreement. Barragan continued to look bored, and Ichigo suspected he wasn't as loyal to Aizen as everyone thought. He still didn't trust the Espada, convinced that Barragan was just looking for a moment of weakness to strike Aizen down. And Halibel merely inclined her head, seemingly content to follow whatever her lord commanded.

"They're our friends," Nel chimed in and wiggled excitedly in her seat despite the firm hand placed on her head to keep her in place. Even nearly asleep, Stark was absurdly strong. "O' course we wouldn'ta eat 'em."

Aizen smiled patiently in the fifth Espada's direction. "Correct. They are our friends," he agreed. "They are also not our prisoners, but unfortunately, they still cannot be allowed to leave either. They know too much, and I will not take that risk."

"We will be required to watch them, then?" Halibel questioned, a tone of faint boredom seeping into her voice as she gestured with one hand.

"Yes," Aizen answered. "That will be necessary. I give them freedom to gain their trust, but without fully understanding their motives, I cannot fully trust them in return."

Barragan snorted and shifted his bulk in his chair, making it creak ominously. "Why bother?" he grunted and leaned his chin on his massive hand. "They are just a waste of space here. Not even half as useful as the other invaders you let stay," he added with a pointed look in Ichigo and the geta-boushi's direction.

Across from Ichigo in a seat chosen for the sole purpose of teasing him beneath the table, Gin finally stirred. And the edges of his smile tightened with annoyance. There were few who could tell the difference, but Ichigo and Aizen were two of them. Gin was getting annoyed, and his reiatsu was subtly climbing as a result.

Barragan had been the loudest protester against the two former Soul Society allied Shinigami entering Hueco Mundo and remaining. And he still expressed his displeasure quite frequently, though it was always carefully worded in Aizen's presence. Ichigo had taken to avoiding Barragan whenever possible, and he knew that Urahara always had a bevy of perfectly polite insults to return when the Espada started in on his nonsense.

The third Espada respected Aizen because he was strong and was their ruler. He was intelligent, and he had the plans to take down the Shinigami. He respected his fellow Arrancar and Espada to a certain degree depending on their own abilities, and he tolerated Tousen. But he had never liked Gin and Ichigo had come to learn that as well. Which meant that his dislike had automatically sifted down to Ichigo, the moment he had aligned himself in any way with Gin, from the moment he and Gin had become friends. And he didn't like Urahara simply because the man was far too smart. And too close to Aizen in such a seemingly small amount of time.

In any case, the feelings were mutual.

Slitted eyes pinned themselves on the older Espada's wrinkled face, and the sense of threat in the room began to rise. Ichigo didn't much like Gin standing up for him, but he also couldn't prevent his lover from doing so either. He supposed that Gin considered it his duty as older and stronger to protect him in some way.

Sensing the tension building, Aizen smoothly continued talking. "You may be right," he conceded, tone cutting into the latent hostility as though it were edged with his own reiatsu. "But it would be foolish to throw away a stone before polishing to be certain there is not a gem beneath. They may yet prove to be useful."

"Or more trouble than they are worth," a voice inserted knowingly, a happy chirp in its feminine tone and completely unexpected.

In tandem, most of the eyes in the room shifted to the door, even as Barragan sniffed at Aizen's calm diffusion of the situation and settled back into his chair.

"Yoru-chan!" Urahara cried happily, glad to see his dear friend since it had been quite some time since he had met with the Shihouin heir.

Ichigo himself was surprised to see Yoruichi standing in the doorway. As she stepped into the room, he was more shocked to see who she had brought with her. Garbed in all white and managing to fit in perfectly with the rest of those seated in the room was Ishida Uryuu. A faint look of perturbation marked his expression, though that was hardly different than usual.

"Soul Society is not too happy with Byakuya-bo's disappearance," Yoruichi added and walked around the table, oblivious to the looks of confusion the Espada were sending her direction.

None were aware of her existence or her relationship to the boss and Urahara. Ishida remained in the doorway, one elbow propped on the arm he had folded over his chest. He didn't seem the least bit concerned to be standing in a room filled with Arrancar and Tousen.

Rounding the table, Yoruichi's face lost its business-like appearance as she happily declared, "Ki-kun!," and threw her arms around the shop owner. She wrapped Urahara in a big hug and dropped a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Looking mildly annoyed, Aizen returned to his seat with a regal motion. Now that Yoruichi was present, all attempts at maintaining decorum were useless. She moved at her own pace.

Content to let the two friends have their loud and undignified reunion, he shifted his attention to the other unexpected guest. "Ishida-kun, how good of you to join us."

A pale finger pushed his glasses further onto his nose. "An unfortunate necessity, Aizen-san. I had little choice in the matter." And it was clear from his tone just who he meant.

Ichigo, however, couldn't help but feel glad that Szayel wasn't present at this particular meeting. The bedamned eighth Espada would practically be twittering in joy. He didn't know what Ishida had done to garner his attention, but Ichigo felt sorry for the Quincy. The Arrancar's scientist's obsessions could run rather deep and long.

"All the same," Aizen replied and seemed to relax in his seat. "Your presence will be of aid."

A small smirk crossed Ishida's lips. "That much I can believe."

Amused, the lord of Hueco Mundo returned his attention to the idiots beside him and cleared his throat demonstratively. "Yoruichi," he called out rather loudly, "you had something important to relay, I assume?"

With a grin and friendly punch to Urahara's shoulder, the Shihouin heir nodded and perched herself on the arm of the geta-boushi's seat. "News straight from Seireitei," she explained as she crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against Urahara for balance. "And I've a feeling you won't be as pleased to hear it as you were to see me."

"What a pity," Aizen drawled, removing his hands from the table. He gestured towards her, settling one elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his chin atop his fingers. "Continue."

Pleased to be the center of attention, Yoruichi launched into divulging the information she had so carefully brought them. And Ichigo found that the groping had ceased at the appearance of two new faces. A part of him was disappointed, but it was ignored by the part of him that was intrigued as what Yoruichi had to say filtered through to his conscience. He shifted forward in his chair.

"First of all, I wanted to say that the upper ranks are not happy with your recent escapade in Soul Society," she began, though it was said with a smirk of amusement, proving that she cared very little about how their enemies felt. "Especially with what happened to the late captain of the tenth."

Gin snorted, speaking for one of the first times in the meeting. "I'm sure they ain't talkin' 'bout the truth behind it either," he commented, and Ichigo just knew that his lover was still feeling some edge of that original rage.

Hitsugaya had been dealt with and given his due, but that didn't mean all was well and still. And the prodigy's last minute insults had managed to strike where they would hurt the most, ensuring lingering aftereffects. Gin would never admit it, and Ichigo knew this, but he would never forget Hitsugaya's words. Izuru faced the same problem. And to bring up the tenth division, Hitsugaya, or any combination of the two to his face prompted a sparkling of rage in those normally kind blue eyes.

"That would be a no," Yoruichi agreed, dragging Ichigo's attention back towards her. "The old man's trying to keep everything hushed, but fortunately, Zaraki was the one to find Hitsugaya and the little message you two--"

A cough interrupted her words, very subtly coming from Izuru's direction.

"--three," she amended with an amused grin, "left behind. He's asking all the right questions and poking Yamamoto, refusing to let things lie. Thanks to him, we've got others doubting."

Sneaking a glance towards Aizen, Ichigo wasn't surprised to find him unmoved in his position but a sly smile still curling on his lips. It was a look that meant he was contemplating or that certain pieces were effectively falling into place, just as he had hypothesized they would.

"Others?" the lord of Hueco Mundo prompted.

She wagged her finger in his direction. "I can't reveal all my sources, Sousuke," Yoruichi chided teasingly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have any mystery."

"If you actually had any left, I would be surprised," Urahara drawled from nearby and poked a finger into her back.

Several sitting at the table chuckled as Yoruichi rolled her eyes and very casually shoved an elbow his direction. Urahara easily avoided the half-hearted attempt, chuckling in amusement.

"Don't pair up against me," Yoruichi retorted and reclined further against her dear friend, as though planning to crush him with her weight. One elbow settled on his shoulder. "Besides, the matter of who is straying from Soul Society's carefully planned track is not as important as what the upper echelons are crafting at the moment."

Her hint of soon-to-come violence perked those at the table, even the waning attention of the Espada. Barragan in particular.

Aizen's fingers rubbed over his chin, consideration replacing the amusement. "Another invasion?" he posed, mind already churning out possible outcomes that were evaluated, weighed, tossed aside or kept.

Yoruichi nodded. "But a bit stealthier than their cannon attempt, which no one will admit would've failed dismally even if you hadn't destroyed it."

That left few options. Especially considering that a full-scale invasion of captain-level opponents was the furthest thing from subtle and possibly the only maneuver other than stealth tactics that would put a dent in Aizen's forces.

"The Onmitsukidoh then," Gin inserted, usual grin flattening into a thoughtful frown. Ichigo could tell that his lover was contemplating just what Soul Society was planning. And like the teenager suspected, it was far from good.

"What can I say?" Yoruichi commented with a dismissive flick of her wrist and a nonchalant expression. "The Kuchiki were a bit angry that their head was 'kidnapped,' as they termed it. They've pushed Seireitei to get him back."

The fingers of Aizen's free hand tapped a quick rhythm on the arm of his chair, new calculations spinning behind his eyes. "It is about Kuchiki-hime then," he mused aloud, an inkling of a plan beginning to form. A counter-attack already in the works. As well as a hefty dose of suspicion.

The war between Soul Society and Hueco Mundo was not so simple that Seireitei would spare little expense to rescue one man, no matter what influence the Kuchiki family held. Particularly since two lower Shinigami had disappeared with him and in a method that pointed fingers not towards kidnapping but willing betrayal. Aizen had the feeling that there was more beneath the surface. Regardless, he would question Yoruichi further when others weren't present, certain that the Shihouin heir would only divulge certain information to a select audience.

"Precisely," the woman agreed with a snap of her fingers that echoed through the room. "According to my sources, they want him back. And that's going to be their next move."

Bored with the discussion, Barragan grunted, waving one burly hand. "Just give the thing back then," he suggested with a disinterested stare. "Without any reiatsu, he's pretty much useless. They can have their broken toy."

"That is not an option," Aizen stated sharply, pinning his third Espada down with a firm glare. "Lack of reiatsu or not, with the Kuchiki angered, Seireitei's power has been diminished. I am not afraid of whatever they think to send our way."

Barragan recoiled in his seat, effectively chastised. He tried to fake it with a cough and a squaring of his shoulders, but it was clear he feared Aizen's anger like the rest of the Espada. The look faded from his face, however, when Urahara chose to comment as well, his loathing for the exiled captain apparent in his expression.

"He is right," the shopkeeper agreed, inclining his head. "Especially since the Kuchiki have been working towards finalizing a stranglehold on Chamber 46."

Barragan wasn't completely convinced. A seat over from him, Stark stirred, shooting the third Espada a look that was clearly a warning to keep his damn mouth shut. Unless he wanted to face Aizen's wrath, which was never a safe option.

"What are we going to do about it, boss?" Stark drawled, proving that he had been listening at least part of the time. His special ability to know and react to everything going on around him no matter how deeply asleep.

Aizen smirked, lowering his arm from where he had balanced his chin and drawing up straight in his high-backed chair. "We protect our assets," he explained, as though it were as simple as that. "Which means I want a full guard on our guests. Stark, Halibel, I'll expect you and your fraccion to take care of this."

The named Espada agreed with little argument, though Barragan couldn't help a noise of discontent. He didn't like being left out and was well aware that his little outburst earlier might have lowered him in his lord's esteem. Ulquiorra lacked the will to argue. And Nel had fallen asleep, not that Ichigo was surprised.

What shocked him though was that she had slumped over and was drooling on Ulquiorra's arm, snuggled against his side. The fourth Espada didn't seem the least bit perturbed by this and took the wet spot on his uniform in stride. The suspicions Ichigo had been building about their relationship began to strengthen as Gin's words echoed in his head, remarks made with that sly tone as if he knew something that Ichigo did not.

The familiar sound of the geta-boushi's fan snapping open drew Ichigo's attention back to his sensei. The fan was flicked in front of Urahara's face, already shadowed eyes taking on a contemplative gleam.

"Perhaps it would also be in our best interests to increase the eyes on our perimeter," he suggested with all the tone of one who fully expected it to quickly become a command.

A glance was exchanged between the two "special friends," understanding passing easily between them. Aizen's brow twitched, and he focused his gaze on his favorite.

"Ulquiorra, I would like you to handle that," he efficiently ordered, seeming not to notice the way Barragan's hands tightened on the arm of his chair.

Overlooked for a lower rank, the third Espada was sufficiently angered. The faint crack that echoed through the room was ignored by everyone. Except perhaps Urahara, who noted the noise and the action that created it with the same efficiency that he seemed to gather all other knowledge.

"Yes, Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra answered in his clipped monotone, inwardly pleased that more trust had been placed in him yet again.

The fan waved once more. "That's solved then," Urahara inserted cheerily. One finger jabbed Yoruichi in the back. "Alright, neko-chan, was there anything else?"

Rolling her eyes at the nickname, she shook her head. "Not at this point, no."

"And Ishida-kun?" Gin questioned and glanced curiously to the Quincy, who hadn't spoken since his initial introduction nor made any explanations as to his appearance. "What made ya decide ta leave the others and come here?"

The teenager shrugged, waving one hand dismissively as his glasses gleamed in the pale light. "Call it curiosity, Ichimaru-san. Or perhaps even revenge. Whichever you like."

"I find it hard to believe that you're here to help," Ichigo put in with a snort, remembering how much trouble he had gone through getting Ishida to leave in the first place. "Unless there's something in it for you. Something big."

The Quincy had been irretrievably stubborn for what he had considered running away. He wanted to confront the Shinigami and demand an explanation, heedless of the consequences. It had been strange to be the rational one for once, at least for Ichigo. Ishida hadn't seemed to realize just how much danger he was facing.

If Soul Society was aiming to kill Ichigo, a Shinigami of sorts and by rights one of their own, what would they do against a Quincy? A race that they had already tried to eradicate once before? And if they were willing to assassinate a kind girl who had only ever helped them, would they feel guilty about killing a bespectacled boy who was pretty adept at ridiculing them?

It had taken Orihime's guileless smile and gentle request for Ishida to see reason. Ichigo wasn't certain what she had said, but it had worked. Ishida had agreed to go for the sake of protecting Ichigo's family and for living to fight another day. Though he had vowed that he would take part in the battle at some point, unwilling to let the threat against his life go unpunished.

Perhaps that was his reason for being here today.

Cool eyes pinned Ichigo down from behind the glare of his glasses, carrying all the power of a Kuchiki glacial glower. "Luckily, we don't have to rely on your intuition alone, Kurosaki," Ishida retorted with all of their usual biting humor, very subtly insulting him.

At least, some things hadn't changed.

"And with that," Aizen smoothly intervened to cut off the lightning tension between the two reluctant friends, "this meeting is concluded. You are all dismissed."

Somehow, Ichigo felt he had missed something. That there must have been more to the meeting, but Aizen was trying to end it sooner because there was more he wanted to discuss without all ears present. He remained in his seat as the Espada rose to go about their duties, Stark and Halibel already converging to discuss the best way to organize the extra guard to be placed on Byakuya.

"Ichigo."

Nearly surprised to hear his name called, he blinked, gaze finding Aizen who hadn't moved.

"Why don't you and Izuru-kun find Ishida-kun a room," the ex-captain suggested in a manner that pretty much made it an order. "I'm sure he will be the most comfortable near your friends."

Furrowing his brow, he wanted to ask why he was being dismissed as well but erred on the side of caution. He saved that query for later, knowing he would get clearer answers from Gin before he would get something more than a riddle from Urahara or Aizen. He rose to his feet, nodding his acquiescence.

"Sure," he agreed and headed for the doorway as Izuru stood and fell into line beside him. "C'mon, Ishida."

"A please would have been more polite, Kurosaki." Uryuu couldn't resist the jab, though he moved to follow the Vizard and Shinigami anyway.

Ichigo responded with an eye-roll, easily slipping into their usual routine despite the length of time it had been since they had last spoken. "Che. You can sleep in the hall if you want."

The door closed on whatever the Quincy planned on retorting, leaving only five within the room. They waited until the last stirrings of reiatsu faded before continuing their discussion, however, the look of supreme authority departing Aizen's face and leaving behind only concerned contemplation.

Gin frowned a little to himself and wondered why Aizen would dismiss Ichigo as well. It wasn't as if he planned on keeping anything a secret from his lover. And Ichigo was usually privy to whatever tactics that Gin's captain had in mind. So what was with all of the secrecy?

"Somethin' else, Aizen-taichou?" he posed, hoping to get the gears in motion. He didn't much like all the questions and wanted answers.

Brushing strands of hair from his forehead, Aizen smiled that devious little grin that Gin had learned to associate with one of his innately clever plans. Rather than answering his question though, the former fifth-division captain turned towards Urahara.

"Eyes on the perimeter, Kisuke?" he posed, proving that he thought the suggestion was clear and utter bullshit.

Beside the shopkeeper, Yoruichi hopped down from the arm of his chair and swayed her way over another seat. She sprawled into it with little grace, propping one foot against the edge of the table.

Urahara grinned and snapped his fan shut with a loud, sharp noise. "Not everyone is aware of the sensors I placed," he explained, which was a surprise for Gin because even _he _hadn't known that the man had done such a thing. "I want to keep it that way."

"As conniving as ever, Ki-kun." Yoruichi snickered, throwing her arm over his shoulder companionably and winking as though they shared some secret.

Patiently, Aizen eyed the Shihouin heir. And if there was a half a bit of jealousy in his gaze, he wouldn't ever admit it, though Gin was pretty sure it was there. He'd known his captain for a long time, known him even when the rest of Soul Society and all those other sycophants couldn't see him for who he really was. They had all been so blind, unwilling to look beneath the surface. But Gin, he had recognized Aizen-taichou for what he was from the very beginning. A Shinigami with plans, ambition, one who well understood just how far those higher than them had fallen. And he was a man who would do whatever it took to bring them down. Admittedly, there were a few casualties along the way. But Aizen had declared war on Soul Society a long time ago; it was a pity they were just now realizing they were in one.

"And so are you for that matter, Yoruichi," Aizen stated. "Are you still unwilling to reveal your mysteries?"

The playful look on her face remained, but her eyes hardened, revealing her resolve. "Like Kisuke here, I also wanted as few to be aware of the knowledge as possible. One never knows if there are spies, even amongst those who are most loyal."

Aizen inclined his head. "Naturally."

"Shunsui and Jyuu are beginning to doubt." Settling back in her chair comfortably and crossing one foot over the other against the edge of the table, Yoruichi continued without ever seeming to notice Aizen's brow twitching at her blatant disregard for manners.

"They always were fond of you, Sousuke," Urahara commented with an agreeing hum. "Frankly, I'm not surprised."

Aizen merely widened his mischievous smile, as though he had expected this outcome all along. "Continue." He gestured to Yoruichi.

Flipping a small shuriken across her fingers, Yoruichi complied. "They've been asking discreet questions in all the right places, not to mention the time they are spending in the central library of the Kuchiki." She smirked, chuckling to herself. "Jyuu's lucky that Byakuya-bo's grandmother still has that decades-old flame for him; otherwise, he wouldn't even be able to get close."

"I expected retaliation," Aizen replied carefully, coming to an understanding. "But they were even quicker than I anticipated. I assume that Byakuya's disappearance – which was not in my calculations, I add – must have insisted upon haste."

"Kidnapping," Yoruichi reminded him, dark eyes gleaming with mirth. "They call it a kidnapping."

Even Gin found the very idea of that laughable. The greatest head of the Kuchiki being "kidnapped" by his very own vice-captain and younger sister. Whoever would have heard of such a thing? Especially since to the Shinigami know he held value only to his own clan because he had no reiatsu of any worth. Gin couldn't help but wonder who was already sharpening their claws to step into Byakuya's place.

"Still," he interjected, brow furrowed deeply as he considered the revelations. "All this trouble fer a noble who can't wield his zanpakutou? Somethin' doesn't add up righ'."

"No, it doesn't," Urahara agreed, hand dropping to Benihime who was hooked on the arm of his chair. Fingers danced over the head of the zanpakutou-disguised-as-cane. "And my instincts are pointing in the direction of assassination. This attack may serve two purposes. The old man is senile but not stupid. He knows who his biggest threats are."

Yoruichi held up her hand, face grim as she counted them on her fingers. "Sousuke. Kisuke. And Ichigo."

Gin nearly jerked at the sound of his lover's name, not expecting to hear them. "Ichigo? But he's levels below us and not exactly the best strategist," he admitted, though it wasn't something he would ever admit to the teen aloud.

It was the last thing Ichigo would be happy to hear, even if it was the truth. He was improving every day, strength increasing by leaps and bounds. He could take Stark four times out of five, and if he was lucky, he would sometimes win one over on Kaname when the blind bastard agreed to a spar. Which was rarely. But he still hadn't managed to beat Gin even once.

"Nor is he of utmost importance in terms of the order of command," Kaname added thoughtfully, nearly startling Gin who had almost forgotten the blind man's presence.

It was easy to dismiss Tousen, especially when he started on another one of his rants about justice and the pure ones. Gin still didn't really understand why Aizen had chosen him to go along with their plan. The unfailing loyalty perhaps? The willing to obey commands without question? Gin didn't know, and a part of him didn't want to know.

Across the table, Gin could see Urahara briefly hesitate as though choosing his words carefully. "It's not exactly Ichigo's strength that Soul Society fears," the man inserted quietly, gaze directed towards the tabletop as his frown deepened. "But Ichigo himself. The sheer rate of his growth, how quickly he learns. But most of all, how easily he can inspire loyalty."

The words fell into the room heavily as the five former Shinigami of Soul Society absorbed their meaning. It was almost hard to believe that a teenage boy from the Living World, now a Vizard, could be that integral to the grand scheme of things.

He had been an anomaly from the beginning, a variable that Aizen hadn't included into his calculations because he hadn't existed. The boy was the very definition of chance and circumstance. And his presence was enough to throw a kink into every future possibility. No matter how much one wanted to provide for Ichigo's presence, no one could effectively predict what he would do.

"Urahara-san's point is valid," Kaname commented, his face carefully bland as usual. "While Kurosaki-kun is very young, he has something that cannot be easily replicated in others. A gravitation, I suppose."

It was amazing how well Tousen could withhold distaste from his tone when he willed it. Of course, after the sound chastisement Aizen had treated him to, he had learned to hold his tongue regarding Ichigo and derogatory statements. He had made it no secret how much he disliked the teenager, considering Ichigo on the same level as Zaraki Kenpachi.

Still, his words had merit. There was something gravitating in Ichigo. That was unstoppable and impossible to ignore.

"It is the very reason I hoped that Seireitei would make the mistake of sending Ichigo to me," Aizen explained with a hint of triumph in his tone; Soul Society was far easier to predict than Kurosaki Ichigo. "He chooses to do things based on his own decisions and his own understanding. He has his own justice, and he would never betray anyone unless they betrayed him first." One hand gestured vaguely. "He is a key, if you will, or perhaps a keystone would be a better word to use."

It made sense all of a sudden, so many of the questions that Gin had been harboring that he hadn't asked. Why Aizen had allowed Ichigo to join them without so much as a questioning. Why he had almost _expected _it. But that didn't make the anger fade at all.

Seireitei regretted letting Ichigo slip through their fingers, which was pretty damn obvious. They were finally beginning to recognize their mistake. But would they really try to kill him? Ichigo wasn't even their biggest threat.

And then, he realized… well, why not? They were going to do it before, when he hadn't even betrayed them. When his usefulness was up, Ichigo had been marked for death. He and the rest of his talented friends. Why would assassinating him now, when he had turned their backs to them, be any different?

Gin's customary grin slid from his face, never a good sign, and the frown that replaced it was just this side of furious. "Wouldn't it be just as dangerous ta try an' kill him?" His voice had gone cold with righteous anger.

"Yes and no," Yoruichi answered before either Aizen or Urahara could. "It all depends on which outcome Seireitei considers more of a threat. Our retaliation, or the abdication of their remaining few allies."

A faint rapping filled the room, the sound of Benihime tapping against the floor in a continuous rhythm that Gin had learned to recognize as denoting the shopkeeper's worry. "Which means that we can't be certain what they are doing." Shadowed eyes pinned themselves on Gin. "You'll have to keep an eye on him, Gin-chan. He only _thinks _he's invulnerable."

Gin forced himself to unclench his fingers from the arm of his own chair. He had the urge to bust into Seireitei once more, find Yamamoto, and give him a worse punishment than Hitsugaya had received.

"Ya don' have ta tell me that," he said instead. "I know."

Urahara looked at him for a long moment. "Do whatever you must to keep him safe." He was about to continue but was interrupted.

"Aww," Yoruichi crooned, throwing herself from her seat to wrap Urahara in another hug and nearly topple him from his own seat. "Isn't Ki-kun cute? Acting all fatherly like that. Putting Isshin to shame." She squeezed harder. "My little third-seat is growing up!"

Gin himself couldn't take part in the amusement that was filtering into Aizen's expression, far too worried about Seireitei's plans. He didn't like not knowing. He was confident that he could defend Ichigo, that he could handle something like the Onmitsukidoh or whatever Soul Society decided to throw at them. But he recognized that even he was fallible. And he definitely didn't like knowing Ichigo's life was blatantly in danger. Trusting him to fight his own battles was one thing. The threat of assassins was entirely different.

He rose to his feet, suddenly feeling antsy to return to Ichigo's side as if Seireitei was going to attack in the next ten seconds. "Is that all?"

Brown eyes focused on him, seeming to understand without the explanation. "Yes. That is all. We can handle the rest." It was as much approval as it was a dismissal.

Gin excused himself, though they didn't really seem to notice his absence, and left the room. Behind him, Tousen was making his own final statements, probably planning on returning to whatever it was he did when he wasn't lecturing the Espada about justice or stuffing Wonderwice's head with the prospect of it. Gin expected that the last three – Urahara, Aizen, and Yoruichi – would spend some more time discussing.

Around him, the corridor was quiet and empty. A quick sweep with his reiatsu found that no one was nearby, either now or recently. Not that he expected anyone to snoop around, but it never paid to be careful. The scan also proved that Ichigo's reiatsu was in the direction of their shared room, likely waiting on Gin to return.

Turning down the hall towards the right, Gin headed straight for their quarters. For some odd reason wanting to confirm with himself his lover's health. He didn't like this feeling of worry and uncertainty. Of his heart pounding in his chest, robes sticking to the sweaty spots on his back.

Las Noches was silent and still around him, not that he wasn't used to it. Something about the stark white of the decorations and the large, openness of the ceilings commanded a certain respect. The Arrancar walked around as quietly as possible and saved their associations for their rooms or other places. And their other guests kept to themselves.

Speaking of which...

Ahead of him, walking down the corridor with an obvious purpose, was Kuchiki Rukia. She looked up and spotted him immediately, body stiffening in instant distrust and dislike. Yet, she tried for politeness well aware of her current circumstances. It was difficult to get the enemy to offer aid if one was rude, after all.

"Good evening, Ichimaru-san," she greeted with a faint yet guarded bow. Not a stupid one, was she?

He couldn't help but stop to taunt her, despite his urge to find Ichigo. His irritation wasn't saved for Soul Society alone. There was something about her that he couldn't find himself to like, something that grated down his spine and made his fingers twitch for Shinsou. Kuchiki or not, Ichigo's friend or not, Ichimaru really wanted nothing to do with her. And he would have been happier if she had never come to Hueco Mundo. Or if she had died on the Soukyoku Hill to be perfectly honest. But then, Ichigo might have been a teensy bit mad at him.

He quirked an eyebrow in her general direction. "What manners," he stated sarcastically. "Yer brother's taught ya somethin', after all."

Rukia twitched, and he watched as her hand dropped towards her zanpakutou, but she was smart enough not to actually touch the hilt. "So it seems," she responded, voice tight with restraint.

Cocking his head to the side, he let his smile widen his face, knowing how much it unnerved her. "And where're ya headin'?"

Large blue eyes watched him cautiously, and it was almost amusing, her wariness. As if she expected him to eat her or something. Bah, he would rather kiss the great Byakuya-hime before he'd touch her. Besides, she would hardly be a snack.

"The library. Am I not allowed?" It was a touch towards belligerent, but so carefully masked with a polite tone that he applauded her Kuchiki training.

Thin fingers waved off her statement. "Ul-chan migh' not like that, but Aizen-taichou says ya can do whatever ya want." His grin slid just a bit closer to a sneer. "'Cept leave."

"He's not--" Rukia bit back on her words, and Gin just knew what she was about to say.

Aizen wasn't a captain anymore. He couldn't even be considered a Shinigami. But Gin would always consider Aizen Sousuke to be his captain, and that was the truth of it. He would never accept anyone else.

Abruptly straightening, a bit of that Kuchiki fire gleamed in Rukia's eyes. Gin was struck by how much she resembled Byakuya, despite sharing no blood with him. Some things were learned, it seemed.

"I am not leaving until I help nii-sama," she declared with surprising resolve. No longer the trembling, quivering girl he had left behind on the bridge. Perhaps in the distant future, he could learn to respect her. Maybe.

Gin purposely let his eyes slit open for just a moment, revealing the amber-red of his irises before closing them once more. The subtle step she took back was well worth it. He had to hold back his chuckle.

"Always good ta know," Gin replied and continued walking without so much as a dismissal. It was so much fun to fuck with her mind. And besides, he didn't want to linger in the hallway for too much longer.

Rukia didn't immediately move, following his exit with her eyes. He had only gone three steps when she called out to him, "Are you going to Ichigo?"

"If ya mean my room, then yes," he answered without turning around because it might have been just a bit too cruel to let her see the triumph on his face.

Ichigo was his now, and he wasn't going to give him back to her. And Gin was proud of this fact, perhaps just a bit possessive. He was proud of their relationship and couldn't help but cling to one of the few great things in his life. Nor could he resist flaunting it to Rukia every chance he could get. He wanted her to know, to clear any romantic thoughts she might have had from her mind. He wasn't going to let go.

"If..."

He heard her hesitate and realized that this really was the first time that they had actually spoken to one another since she arrived with Byakuya and Renji a week ago. She had something to say to him, and again, he marveled at her determination.

He glanced over his shoulder, saw her watching his back as she searched for the right words. "If you ever hurt him, I'll kill you," Rukia declared, and her reiatsu surged just a bit, icy tendrils nipping at the outer banks of his own barely contained power.

Gin found it ironic, especially considering that it was Soul Society who had hurt Ichigo in the first place. But he didn't feel like bringing up that point of the past. He did, however, find it amusing that she thought she would be capable of even managing to land a hit. Not even her reiatsu could break through his; what did she possibly think she could do?

Even more than the amusement was the irritation that quickly won out. She believed even for a moment that Gin would seriously hurt Ichigo. And it both hurt and infuriated him, enough that he wanted to respond violently. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would rather take his own life than bring harm to his lover. It wasn't even something he had to think about.

The ire still simmering from the revelation of potential assassins sought to rise to the surface once more, this time fed by his annoyed fury. He forced himself to take a breath, to calm down and ease the lines of sudden tension in his shoulders. Ichigo would be angry if he attacked Rukia, he reminded himself. Especially if she was only trying to protect him and didn't understand a kamibedamned thing.

"The same ta ya, girlie." His smile felt thin and stretched on his lips, and something predatory curled in his belly. "Ya lost yer chance," he said then, voice a rasping, echoing whisper in the hall. The influence of his Hollow no doubt. "He's mine, and I'll be doin' the protectin' from now on."

He had the final word, and the silence following his declaration was all the proof of that. He didn't spare her another glance, continuing towards his destination. He could feel her eyes watching his exit, but she couldn't say anything else.

The anger dissolved under a smirk of victory. And as he rounded the corner, he spied Sun-Sun, one of Halibel's fraccion. Apparently, she was the one chosen to follow Rukia around and keep an eye on her. Poor Arrancar.

Their gazes met briefly, Sun-Sun dipping her head to accord him respect, before she continued her quiet trailing. She wouldn't want to disappoint her boss, after all.

Gin ran into no one else as he quickly made his way back to his quarters. Ichigo was waiting.

* * *

a/n: So far, this piece has proven to be three parts long. Another part may sneak its way in here. Only the next update will tell, lol. I hope you liked the new shift in plot, as well as the return of some of our favorite characters. I'm hard at work at the next part, as well as some more side pieces. Reviews are most welcome!


	25. A Toppling Mistake Part II

_**Warning: Smut alert! Watch out for the lemon. Skip to the scene divider if you don't want to read it at all. **_

**_Also, there's lots of violence in this part. Though if you made it through The Twilight Hour, you should be fine with this part._  
**

**Title: A Toppling Mistake (Part II)**

**Characters: Hueco Mundo cast, Ichigo/Gin, Yoruichi**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Graphic (and I do mean graphic) and bloody violence, Language, boy/boy lemony smut **

**Words: 7965**

**Description: Aizen and Urahara plot out Soul Society's demise, while Gin doesn't take threats to Ichigo's health lightly. **

* * *

Gin met with Ichigo just outside their shared room, his lover's face twisted with a scowl of annoyance. One hand was brushing at the sleeve to his outfit, as though trying to wipe up something dirty.

"I don't know what the hell Ishida's thinking," Ichigo grumbled to himself, his other hand moving to run through his hair as he also fidgeted with his obi. "Stupid Quincy."

That the two of them weren't the closest or the best of friends wasn't new knowledge to Gin. They would fight for each other and watch each other's backs, but trying to make either of them get along was useless.

Gin didn't care about the Quincy boy. His eyes were for Ichigo alone. He looked at his lover and found himself unable to imagine what he would do if Soul Society did do something as foolish as try to take Ichigo from him. He realized that they were in a war, and that sometimes battles happened. That there was always the chance there was someone stronger.

He knew that he should be prepared to lose Ichigo at any time, to any sort of accident or fate. But that didn't mean he wanted to. In fact, he didn't even want to begin to fathom such a thing. Half a year didn't seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, but when he hadn't felt that loneliness for six months, it was a lifetime to Gin. He didn't want to return to it.

"Gin?"

Brown eyes looked at him with concern. "Did something happen?"

He shook his head to clear the unwelcome and unnecessary thoughts. "Nah, jes Ki-kun babblin' on as usual."

Ichigo watched him as if he didn't fully believe. He was pretty sharp when it came to that. And though Gin was withholding the truth, he didn't consider himself wrong for doing so. He didn't want to alarm Ichigo with a mere _possibility. _

Reaching for the door, Gin turned the knob and entered, Ichigo following him.

"They had something important to say though, right?" the teenager question. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered waiting until everyone left."

"Just wanted ta warn us again about the attacks," Gin answered with both truth and lie. Ichigo would be furious if he knew he was being protected, his sense of independence as strong as his stubborn streak.

The younger Vizard grunted in understanding, though some suspicion still lit his eyes, and moved past Gin into the room. He watched as his lover began to bustle around, very obviously looking for something.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Ichigo frowned, one more of frustration than anger. "Looking for the med kit that Hanatarou sent me last month," he explained, pulling open one of the dresser drawers and digging noisily through it. "Stark said something about sparring, and Ishida stuck his nose in about watching."

The sudden, irrational urge to ask Ichigo not to go nearly strangled Gin. Urahara's warning washed through his mind, prompting the strange desire and he had to shake it away. He couldn't stop his next moves, however, just wanting to hold onto what was his.

He drew up behind Ichigo and wrapped his arms around his lover's belly. His chin rested on Ichigo's shoulder as he turned his head and pressed his lips to Ichigo's neck, breathing in his scent. Relief spread through him at the faint shiver he detected from the action. Gin knew from experience that Ichigo was sensitive behind his lobe and subjective to the sound of warm and wet air breathed across his ear. Holding back a nearly lecherous chuckle, Gin proceeded to do just that, attempting to entice Ichigo into staying with him rather than sparring with Stark.

"Gin," Ichigo groaned, voice filled with the stirrings of desire. "You're distracting me."

He smirked, feeling victorious. "Tha' was my intention." He accompanied his response by drawing Ichigo more firmly against his body, one hand sliding up to rest against Ichigo's chest.

"Stark's waiting," Ichigo reminded him, but the effect was lost as he pushed his hips backwards, against Gin's clothed groin. His own hands were still in the drawer, but the searching had long since ceased.

Gin curled his tongue around the shell of an ear, lowering his other hand to the front of Ichigo's hakama. "I think he'll get th' picture when ya don' show up soon," the man purred and nuzzled into the warmth of Ichigo's neck. He pressed his palm over the burgeoning arousal.

He heard a quick intake of breath and felt Ichigo's arousal leap against his palm. Gin's own need was beginning to grow hot and heavy in his hakama. He lowered his lips, mouthing the juncture of neck and shoulder, which had long proven to be another erogenous zone for his younger lover. The judicious application of teeth in certain intervals only helped matters.

Ichigo rolled his head to the side, a wordless request for Gin to continue. His hands left the drawer, closing it behind him, and moved to the edge of the dresser. One gripped wood as the other dropped to his obi, tugging on the rather loose knot.

"Five minutes," the teen mumbled, hips seeking more of Gin's teasing touches. "That's all I'll give you."

That was his declaration, but Gin knew that it would inevitability end up as far more. But for right now, he just wanted to touch. To taste and to feel. He couldn't explain it; he just knew what he wanted.

Pleased by Ichigo's acquiescence, he grabbed the teen by the hips and whirled him around. Pressing him back against the dresser, something unidentified fell from the top and crashed to the floor. Gin paid it no mind as he pressed their lips together, sealing their mouths.

The kiss was deep and probing, claiming every inch of Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo gave in at first but then fought back, his tongue pressing forward with his own determination. A move that always proved to make Gin's blood boil.

One hand on Ichigo's hip jerked their pelvises together, even as a hand reached up and tangled in silver hair. It gripped tightly, keeping their mouths sealed. Gin's heart picked up in rhythm, and a growl echoed in his throat. So this was how Ichigo wanted to play it. Fine with him.

He rolled his hips against Ichigo's, felt the answering hardness beneath the layers of Ichigo's clothing. The grip in his hair tightened just a bit as Ichigo's tongue thrust into his mouth, always a battle, never simple acquiescence. Pleasure peppered in sharp staccato, setting his senses aflame. He had to have him. And _now_.

Growling in his throat, Gin tightened his hold on Ichigo's hips and started walking backwards, pulling his lover with him the short distance to the bed. Resistance was minimal as the kiss deepened, Ichigo pressing his tongue into Gin's mouth as though trying to taste every inch of him.

The moment he felt the back of his legs touch the edge of their bed, Gin broke off the kiss. His eyes gleamed an amber-red through narrow slits as he pressed his lips towards Ichigo's ear.

"Hands and knees on the bed," he purred as he slowly turned them both until they were facing it. His tongue slid out of his mouth to curl against Ichigo's ear. "Indulge me, ne? I-chi-go?" Each syllable was carefully punctuated to produce the maximum effect.

"Pervert," Ichigo muttered as Gin's hands busily moved to strip him of his clothing, dropping it to the floor with little regard for later wrinkles.

Gin chuckled, skating his hands over darker skin as it was bared, fingers tracing over whichever scars he found in his wake. "S'that a yes?"

In answer, Ichigo lifted a knee and placed it on the bed, a look that could pretty much be translated as "come hither" thrown over his shoulder. Well, it was really a scowl, but Gin had learned how to read them all too easily in the past months.

"It's a get the hell on this bed," Ichigo responded, though Gin wasn't really paying attention, gaze caught by the sexy sight his lover made. "Five minutes remember?"

Five minutes, like hell.

Quick, efficient movements sent Gin's own clothes tumbling to the floor, baring his slim form to the cool air of the room. He wasted no time in chasing away the chill by pressing himself against Ichigo's warm body, toppling him forward onto the mattress. The teen's hands shot out to catch himself, putting himself in perfect position. Gin's arousal rubbed against him, and the older man shivered, desire spreading through his body.

He nuzzled against the back of Ichigo's neck, his hands roaming incessantly. "Hand me the oil, lover," he murmured, knowing that there had to be at least one bottle shoved into the disarrayed covers somewhere.

"Give me a minute," Ichigo muttered, and it wasn't one of irritation but of distraction because Gin had his fingers wrapped around a nipple, gently tugging and rolling the nub. Ichigo's breathing quickened, his own desire rising.

Gin chuckled, leaning down to lick at one of Ichigo's ribs, making him rise back against him. He watched as Ichigo stretched out one arm, causing the muscles in his back to ripple attractively. After groping around in the blanket layers, he finally produced a small bottle and chucked it over his shoulder in Gin's direction. He caught it with ease.

Placing a final kiss to Ichigo's spine, Gin pulled back and admired the view in front of him. Uncapping the liquid and pouring it over his fingers, he dropped it to the side. Palming the ass presented to him, he was struck with an idea. A slightly messy but very, very arousing idea.

One hand on Ichigo's hip, he pressed his slick fingers between his lovers legs, slathering it all over the inside of his thighs. He could practically feel Ichigo's confusion in his reiatsu and also curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of aroused anticipation.

"What are you doing?" Ichigo asked, merely interested.

Gin made a sound in his throat that could have been construed as a purr. "You'll see," he promised in a low tone and pulled Ichigo's hips back towards him, nestling his length in the soft crease of his legs. "You'll like it, too. I'll bet." And just for being a good sport, Gin easily slid a hand around to run his still slick fingers over Ichigo's arousal.

He heard his lover suck in a breath, rocking into the touch. Despite his earlier protests, minor though they were, Ichigo was rock hard and dripping. And that had just been the build-up.

When Gin drew back his touch, Ichigo growled low in his throat. "You're driving me crazy," he grumbled, throwing a glare over his shoulder that was lessened in effect due to the pinking of his cheeks.

"Don't want ta be limpin' durin' a spar, right?" Gin murmured, draping himself over Ichigo's back and idly mouthing at the bone of Ichigo's shoulder. "Though it migh' be a bit _messy_."

"I don't care," Ichigo moaned, arching his back in a very attractive fashion that highlighted the sleekness of his muscles. "Just fuck me."

He clucked his tongue chidingly, teeth and mouth sliding across the back of his lover's shoulders and neck. "Such a dirty mouth," he purred, one hand locked on Ichigo's hip as he began to rock into the warmth of Ichigo's legs where he had applied the oil. "Aizen-taichou'll say I corrupted ya." He could feel his arousal brushing across Ichigo's scrotum, and it was somehow very erotic.

"Don't... talk about Aizen right now," Ichigo muttered pushed back against him as Gin dropped his hand from his hip to curl around Ichigo's front.

Gin chuckled to himself. Ichigo was still such a prude.

"Fine, I won't," he responded, sliding slickly between his lover's legs. "Tighten your thighs," he murmured in Ichigo's ear, accompanying the command with a curl of his tongue.

Ichigo did so with little protest, and Gin groaned with the added friction, his grip tightening around Ichigo's length and pulling a moan from his lover. He heard the teen suck in a deep breath as Gin rocked against him, arousal sliding against Ichigo's skin and making his entire body tremble with want.

His mouth traced the long line of his spine, even as his eyes devoured the sight. Ichigo's fingers clenching against the pale white of the sheets. His muscles straining and glistening with sweat. His body in motion, every movement fluid as he rolled his hips in time to Gin's thrusting.

Unlike himself, Ichigo was darker, skin tanned from the sun with limbs sleek and defined. He was power packed into every muscle but not overly bulky. Ichigo was always warm, as if a furnace was behind his flesh. And damn if Gin couldn't stop staring.

It took all of Gin's control not to explode from desire, the fierce fire building in his belly burning brighter at the sight. How Ichigo could be so effortlessly sexy was beyond his understanding. The teen seemed to radiate a sensuality in everything that he did.

Gin's tongue slipped forward, licking across Ichigo's mouth where the salt-tang of sweat greeted his taste buds. He felt Ichigo shiver beneath him and followed up the motion with a gentle scrape of teeth. In response, one brown eye peered at him over a shoulder, eyes dark with desire.

"Gin," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Quit teasing. What happened to five minutes?"

He couldn't help but chuckle as he worked his lips back from Ichigo's head and nibbled on a shoulder. "I can't 'ave more?" he asked, punctuating the request with a firm roll of his hips. He gasped himself, the motion drawing more fire through his veins.

He watched with hungry eyes as Ichigo's head dropped, accusing stare lowered. The teen groaned, shifting backwards to meet the next thrust.

"Stark's going to be even worse after this," Ichigo panted, but he didn't really sound like he cared. In fact, Gin was going to interpret it as an encouragement.

Rubbing his thumb over the head of Ichigo's arousal, he stroked his lover with increasing strength, soaking up every pleased moan his actions produced. He curled his tongue around Ichigo's ear and whispered things designed to make his him hotter with each passing moment.

"Don' think about Stark righ' now," he murmured, thrusting into the tight warmth between Ichigo's thighs and feeling his length brush against Ichigo's scrotum with each push of his hips. "Jes think 'bout me. Only me."

It was a possessive thought that ran through Gin in that moment, not wanting to hear any other name from his lover's lips. Just like he didn't want Soul Society thinking they could do whatever they wanted with Ichigo's life. This warm body in his arms, this happiness he had found, it was _his_. And he was going to keep it.

Below him, Ichigo shifted his weight and tightened his thighs even further in the process. The added strength and the slickness surrounding him was more than Gin could take, coupled with the erotic sounds pouring from his lover's mouth. His restraint faltered as he came, spilling himself against Ichigo's skin and lips clamped on Ichigo's shoulder. He heard Ichigo hiss at the sharp sting and mentally apologized.

Body still quaking from the joy of his release, Gin pulled back and grabbed Ichigo by the hips. With little effort, he flipped Ichigo over to his back, almost amused by his lover's shout of surprise. Ichigo's protest immediately ended, however, when Gin dropped his head and wrapped lips around the teen's straining length. One hand's grip nearly tore the sheets as other fingers tangled in long strands of silver hair. The sound of Ichigo breathing his name was nearly enough to make Gin want to come again. It didn't help that the both of them were aroused by the slightest edge of aggression.

Stroking his tongue along Ichigo's arousal, he slipped one hand forward and slid his fingers through the remnants of his own release. Slickening up the digits, he gently pressed them against Ichigo's entrance. He heard his lover's quick intake of breath before carefully pressing two inside, knowing that the frequency of their activities negated the necessity for slow and careful. Skilled fingers quickly found the perfect spot, and Gin swelled with pride as Ichigo moaned.

He gripped Ichigo's hip with his free hand, preventing his lover from thrusting too deeply into his mouth, as he concentrated on bringing Ichigo nothing but pleasure. His fingers twisted and pressed, a constant stimulation as his tongue stroked diligently over Ichigo's shaft. The teen gasped, hips straining upwards against Gin's hold. He was close; Gin could taste the slickness of precum on his tongue.

Ichigo moaned, his body tensing with desire. Gin could feel the clenching of inner walls on his fingers. And it made him want to stir back into want. The taste of Ichigo was on his tongue, sharp and bitter, but nothing he couldn't survive.

Hips rocked beneath his firm grasp, and the fingers in his hair tightened, the only sign of Ichigo's pending orgasm. A shudder rippled through Ichigo's body, and then, he was spilling into Gin's mouth, a low groan falling from his lips. Gin swallowed it down, despite disliking the taste. He only did so because it was Ichigo, and he would always take whatever Ichigo had to offer him.

As the final tremors racked his lover's body, Gin let Ichigo slip from his mouth and crawled up his body, planting kisses in his wake. Arms wrapped around his shoulders before their lips met, and Gin was hungrily kissing the younger man. He could never quite enough of those kisses. Mouths open and hot, Ichigo fighting as much as he gave in and the feel of Ichigo's body sliding warmly against his.

When they broke apart, Gin couldn't help the wide grin stretched across his lips, sincere and not just for play. "Still wanna go spar?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his lover. "Manipulator," he accused and rubbed his palms down Gin's bare back.

"Evil, remember?" Gin countered, echoing their usual banter.

"Yeah, I remember," Ichigo murmured and kissed him again, reaching up card his fingers through long strands of silver hair. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?"

For a moment, Gin was reminded of that conversation and the fear it had struck inside of him. The trembling emotion he had been trying to fight with little success. The look must have shown on his face because Ichigo's brow furrowed, eyes filling with concern.

"Gin? Are you alright?" Ichigo's voice was soft but worried. "You're acting strange. Sure nothing's going on?"

He didn't want Ichigo to worry, the only reason he kept the possible knowledge to himself. "It's nothin', Ichigo." He smiled and dragged his fingers down Ichigo's side, still feeling stirrings of arousal in his body. "Nothin' cept me wantin' to keep ya here just a bit longer, ne?"

Brown eyes searched his expression before he gave a suggestive shift of his hips. "I suppose I can comply with that," Ichigo teased. "But if Stark asks, I'm blaming you."

Dipping his head to lick at the lines of Ichigo's collarbone, Gin hid his smirk of victory. "Fine by me," he purred and languidly rolled his hips against Ichigo's upper thigh.

When Ichigo arched up to meet him, he just knew that his lover wasn't going to be leaving the room anytime soon. Which was just fine with him.

-----------------------

Later that night, Gin felt it the very second it occurred, a foreign reiatsu on the edge of his senses. It was tightly contained, the intruder obviously skilled at reiatsu manipulation, but Gin had already been on alert thanks to Urahara's warning. Nothing would have slipped by him.

He woke with a start and peered into the darkness of their shared room; the arm wrapped around the sleeping Ichigo tightened in concern. He couldn't see anything, but he knew they were there, that _something_ was there. And it definitely wasn't friendly. His instincts sluggishly surged to the surface, and there was a soft brush of fabric, a light step barely heard against the bare floor.

Beside him, Ichigo stirred into wakefulness, likely sensing his lover's sudden tensing. "Gin?" he murmured sleepily.

Gin didn't respond, too busy concentrating on what he thought he had caught in the dark. A flash of something, just a glimmer really. A blade catching a thin stream of moonlight from the window.

Without thinking, he reacted. A fierce shove sent Ichigo tumbling gracelessly to the side as Gin rolled to the other edge. A blade ripped into their bed, right where Ichigo would have been as he toppled to the floor. Images of Ichigo's blood splattered across their shared bed ignited in Gin's mind. He snarled, reiatsu surging to life and snapping through the room.

Paying no heed to the disarrayed nature of his nemaki, he rolled to his feet and threw a kidoh blindly, sensing that Ichigo was still crouched on the floor. A spray of sharp, flame-tipped darts shot through the room. A pained grunt was music to the ears as one target went down in a blaze of kidoh-induced fire. Gin paid that one hardly any attention as he whipped around, fingers searching for Shinsou.

The room was still dark, and he couldn't see his foes. But that didn't matter to Gin. He didn't need to see them to kill them. And they were most certainly going to die; he was going to be sure of that. Nothing threatened Ichigo and survived.

His reiatsu flared, the reaches of it sensing the others in the room. Four standing, one on the floor. Two were approaching him, and a third seemed to be backing towards the door. The damned coward. The fourth was just standing by, seemingly observing.

A growl building in his throat, Gin leapt over the bed and encountered the two attacking head on. He ducked under the first swing of his assailant and jabbed Shinsou upwards, ripping through black fabric and into the soft belly of one of the assassins. The man gurgled unattractively and toppled to the floor, barely through with his swing before Gin had gutted him. Gin doubted the man had seen anything of his movement but a blur.

Ignoring the sharp scent of blood in the air and the sound of Ichigo fumbling for Zangetsu in the dark, Gin was already diving at his next opponent. He blocked the fierce swing of a small blade, twisted to avoid a high kick, and slammed his elbow into the other assassin's face. The crunch of a nose smashing was a satisfactory noise.

The attacker stumbled backwards and coughed as he choked on his own blood. Gin gave him no quarter, fury coloring his emotions and somehow making him faster. He only wanted to feel their deaths on his fingers, his anger heightened by the fear that had struck him. This close... he had been this close to losing Ichigo.

With a snarl, Shinsou ripped through the air and sliced cleanly across the assailant's throat and well into his neck. He felt warm blood splash onto his fingers, nearly decapitating the man. He dropped to his knees, and even in the dark, Gin could see him scrabbling at the wound, a purely reflexive action. He had no mercy to offer the assassin, and with a hard kick into the man's chest, Gin sent him flying backwards into a dresser with enough force for his head and body to detach.

The sound of blades clashing drew his attention, and Gin whipped around, heedless to the spatters on his person. Ichigo was grappling with one of the assassins but was already gaining ground on the man. A fierce downswing defeated his opponent. Which left only one other standing, the one heading for the door.

None would escape. Not a single one.

A snarled "_Ikorose_" sent Shinsou slicing through the air, catching the man in the back before he could even take a single step beyond the door's threshold. The blade poked through his chest on the other side as the fleeing man was effectively speared. Eyes thin slits of bright blue and black, Gin recalled his zanpakutou and let the body slide off his blade.

And then, it was suddenly silent, except for the sound of stuttered gasping. The one he had felled by kidoh was still alive, clinging to failing breaths.

Fingers wrapped around Shinsou's slick hilt, Gin stalked towards the surviving assassin and found Ichigo there already. The look on his face, shadowed thanks to the lack of light in the room, was contemplative. He lifted his eyes to Gin, and there was hesitancy behind the brown irises.

"He's still alive," Ichigo explained quietly, watching his lover and wondering what Gin planned on doing. He could still see Gin as the rampaging storm, taking out the attackers in the span of a moment, if that.

He had never even realized that his lover was this powerful. Gin must have really been holding back in their spars. Even he could see that more was simmering beneath the surface of tightly contained reiatsu, brimming with a cold and hateful fury.

Gin's jaw twisted. "Not fer long," he muttered and stood over the assassin with Shinsou dangling in his grasp. "I didn't mean ta miss."

"Gin--" There was something in Ichigo's eyes, something almost childlike.

"They were goin' ta kill us," he answered before Ichigo could say another word. "In our sleep. A dagger through th' hearts. Like cowards. Given the chance, they'd do it ag'in."

Even so, he could see the battle on his lover's face. He loved Ichigo; he honestly did. More than the teen would ever know. And he was fond of the naiveté that Ichigo sometimes carried. The sense of innocence that had yet to be tainted. But this was war, and Gin was protecting what was his. He had no room for mercy, not when Ichigo was in danger.

He knew that Ichigo understood that much, but the teen still wasn't at that level. And Gin cherished that in his lover, which was why he never tried to teach Ichigo different. He had seen the boy have leniency for his enemies, attempt to save the very things he was trying to defeat. And he was glad Ichigo could still think optimistically like that.

Biting his lip, he curled his fingers around Shinsou's hilt. "I'll make it quick," he promised, his one concession. It was despite the urging of his Hollow to make it painful and messy, to draw it into something that was a bit more torture than anything.

He didn't wait for Ichigo's agreement, simply stooping to slit the man's throat, getting no sense of satisfaction from that death. It wasn't the same as fighting the assassin down, even if they were all pitifully easy to defeat. He wondered if he was simply that much stronger of if the quality of the Onmitsukidoh was really that low these days. Soul Society was either underestimating the abilities of their foes or overestimating their own.

"That can't have been the only ones," Ichigo suddenly said, as he tore his gaze away from the sight of the dead men on his bedroom floor. His eyes widened. "Aizen!" he realized at the last moment. "They're going after Aizen, too."

Heedless to the way his nemaki draped off one shoulder, Ichigo was already heading towards the door. Damn hero complex. But Gin stopped him before he could get too far, snagging his arm with long fingers. Confused, Ichigo whirled back to him.

"Gin... what...?"

He silenced him with a firm kiss, a deep kiss. It was as much reassurance as the warmth of Ichigo's body pressed against his and the familiar scent of his lover washed over him. This close. If he had woken any slower, if his senses hadn't been so attuned... If Urahara hadn't warned him to be careful...

So many "ifs," and all of them were scant inches from him having lost Ichigo forever.

His heart gave a lurch in his chest, and he pressed even closer into Ichigo. Wrapped his arms that much tighter. Ignored the not-so-faint tremble, just as he ignored the sudden burning behind his eyes.

"They were after _you_ tonigh', Ichigo. Not me," Gin whispered as he ended the kiss, pulling away to look him in the face. "_You_. Not me. Not us. Just you. I was collateral. Please… jus' humor me. Just this once."

He pulled Ichigo against him, letting Shinsou slide to the floor. Tilting his head down – not so far a distance as there used to be – he kissed Ichigo again. If his arms were just a bit too tight around his lover, Ichigo didn't complain.

The teen realized if a bit belatedly that Gin had been afraid for him. That his behavior earlier and now was all because of fear. And he returned the kiss, deepened it with tongue, and squeezed Gin's upper arm to assure him.

"_I'm still here_," the gesture told him. "_I'm not going anywhere_."

When the kiss ended, he smiled reassuringly at Gin, though it could hardly be seen in the dark. "I'm fine. These types of guys couldn't take me down." When he squeezed Gin's fingers, he felt the stickiness of blood. It should have made him ill; it didn't.

At the worry etched into Gin's face, a thought occurred to Ichigo. He paused and reconsidered, mouth pulling into a frown.

"That's what the meeting was about, wasn't it? Aizen knew this would happen."

"He suspected," Gin corrected, hoping that Ichigo's suspicion wouldn't turn to anger at not being informed. "Which means they're prob'ly after Ki-kun at this moment."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "The geta-boushi!" he blurted, concerned for his mentor. "Then, we should--"

He couldn't even manage an escape from Gin's arms.

"Aizen-taichou's not helpless, ya know," the ex-captain reminded him, glad that concern had outweighed any potential irritation. "They're fine. We should see if they tried ta get Kuchiki-hime."

Inclining his head in understanding, Ichigo remained distracted. Though logically, both the geta-boushi and Aizen were more than capable of defending themselves. He still didn't like knowing that assassins had been able to get so close to him without any sort of warning. He didn't like his life being threatened in such a cheap and cowardly manner, but he really should have known considering what Soul Society was going to do to him before.

Gin kissed him once more, if only to wipe away the worry that shadowed his expression. Nothing was going to touch Ichigo; he was going to make sure of that. It was Aizen's job to watch out for Urahara, and he was just going to have to remind Sousuke of that so Ichigo wouldn't worry.

But first, to check on the princess.

The wind from the stark, white desert was unchanging in its chill, just like the landscape it emerged from. Cold and lifeless, it carried no warmth to Aizen's balcony. Yet, he relished the coolness brought by the breeze, keeping it as a reminder of what Soul Society had done. More fuel to the flame as it were and more reason for him not to make their same foolish mistakes.

"We have to consider how many divisions will actively fight against us," Sousuke mused aloud, gaze focused on the map of Seireitei that was spread out across the table in front of him. The edges were held down by small figurines, replicas of Hollow masks.

Across from him, Kisuke inclined his head as he too pondered the schematics that his spies had taken great pains to pilfer and provide. And if he were bothered by the lack of warmth to their location, his dear friend didn't show it.

"Undoubtedly, we face no opposition from the third and the fifth, as neither are in any position to form an attack.

"The sixth is also lacking in leadership at the moment," Aizen added, bringing his tea cup to his lips and breathing in the strong aroma. Legs crossed in front of him, he presented the perfect picture of ease. "Their third-seat is not capable of leading them to battle. And according to Yoruichi, we have nothing to worry about from the eleventh."

Reaching for one of the many pastries that had been brought with their tea, Kisuke frowned. "Yamamoto knows that the lower ranks will not be strong enough to handle any of our forces. Will he throw them at us anyway to serve as a distraction, or try to cut his losses by keeping them out of the fray?"

Aizen's eyes narrowed into thin slits of cold distaste. "It is the soutaichou, Kisuke, which do you think?"

"We'll deploy some of the fraccion to keep them at bay," the shopkeeper agreed with a disappointed sigh. "Yamamoto will make it difficult for us to keep the loss of life to a minimum."

Sitting back in his chair, Sousuke looked up at the black sky, so utterly devoid of anything even resembling stars. "That is because he foolishly believes that my aim is to destroy Soul Society in its entirety. The senile fool understands nothing."

"Of course not," Kisuke responded with a scoff, shadowed eyes shooting Sousuke a fond but knowing look. "It would be impossible to guess the mind of Aizen Sousuke. Even I had given up centuries ago."

Aizen arched one brow in his dearest friend's direction. "As if the mind of Urahara Kisuke were any easier to comprehend."

He tapped a finger against his forehead. "This is mainly scientific calculations and--"

"--perversions," Sousuke filled in for him with an amused smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Kisuke sniffed. "--and battle tactics," he defended with a stern glance. "Clearly, those are all easy subjects to comprehend. You, however, can still prove to be quite the challenge."

He sat forward in his seat, eyes taking on a gleam that bespoke of new inventions or discoveries. "There were times I wondered if you were really trying to save the world or destroy it."

"And sometimes," the lord of Hueco Mundo returned, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne. His gaze, captured by the single moon, seemed almost distant. "It just may be a bit of both."

Kisuke grinned and touched the brim of his hat with one finger. "And that, dear Sou-kun, is precisely why you're incomprehensible. But don't worry; I've not given up on the mystery. I'm still determined to make sense of you yet."

A smile tugged at Sousuke's lips, a mixture of fondness and bemusement. "I am relieved," he replied drolly. "I can now rest easy."

In response, a strange ringing began to fill the air, not unlike the happy chip of a cell phone. And it was coming from the direction of Urahara's new Hueco Mundo outfit. Or to be more precise, the seat of his hakama.

Aizen lifted one brow. "Kisuke," he began carefully. "Your ass is chirping."

"What? This?" The shopkeeper asked with pretend innocence and withdrew a small device from the folds of his clothing. "That's just the sensors I placed alerting me to our uninvited guests."

"How soon?"

He leaned back nonchalantly, shoving it back into his pocket. "Oh, I suspect they're already on their way to attack Ichigo and Gin-chan. We should see them any minute now."

"I see." Sousuke waited a moment and then rose to his feet with a luxurious stretch. "Then, we should prepare for their arrival, no?"

"You read my mind, Sou-kun," Kisuke responded, dropping his hand to his zanpakutou. "Though I wonder how we should greet our guests?"

The soft sound of feet dropping to the ground behind them met their ears.

Aizen smirked, sliding fingers through his hair. "With our manners intact, Kisuke. We can't be considered rude."

"Of course not," the shopkeeper replied, keeping up the banter as he elegantly drew Benihime from her sheath. "Appearances are important, after all. As are first impressions."

Something hard flickered across the ex-captain's expression, Aizen's senses estimating the distance between the targets approaching his back. "Even the epitome of evil must be polite," he agreed, and his body dissolved into thin air as the assassin sliced a blade through where he had been standing.

"Really, you should be sure of your target before attacking," Kisuke informed him sweetly. Benihime sang as she slashed through the air.

Behind him, a startled shout and the following gurgle was all the proof he needed that Aizen had already taken down the member of the Onmitsukidoh who had sneaked up behind Kisuke, intent on stabbing him in the back. One hand lifted to the brim of Urahara's hat as he stepped towards Aizen's side, blood dripping from his blade to the floor. The steady plip-plop was slightly unnerving in the otherwise silence. The lord and master of Hueco Mundo drew a handkerchief from his pocket, idly wiping down his own zanpakutou.

The air surrounding the two of them was very casual, despite the fact they were even now being encircled by the enemy. At least a dozen of the Onmitsukidoh had landed out on the balcony. And one, who was so obviously the leader considering he had a different face mask than the others, was standing at their forefront.

"Do you think you can handle them?" Sousuke asked, speaking to Kisuke and fully ignoring their would-be assassins.

The leader gestured towards them threateningly, intent to kill laced in her tone. "Aizen Sousuke. Urahara Kisuke. Former captains of Soul Society--"

Kisuke smiled cheerfully. "I don't know," he replied, fingers running lovingly down Benihime's blade. "Might be difficult if there was one more."

"--have been accused of treason and conspiracy--"

"Then, I shall just have to take care of that one," Sousuke responded in kind and then without warning, threw his hand out towards a section of surrounding assassins.

A spray of lightning and fire intertwined shot from his finger, catching three of them in one blow. They had been surprised by the lack of incantation and were slow to react. A flutter of white fabric on the edge of his vision followed by the distinctive clack of geta, and then, Kisuke was leaping past him.

Tap. Kisuke spun and his zanpakutou broke through one of the assassin's blade and bit deeply into his chest. He gurgled and stumbled backwards, still alive but spilling blood. His hand batted ineffectually at the wound, as though trying to shove his own life's fluid back into himself.

Tap. The shopkeeper sprinted the short distance in all of one step and finished off another attacker with an equally quick uppercut. The two fell, one right after the other, bodies nearly crossing each other.

Tap, and Kisuke was at Sousuke's side again, frowning at the dots of blood that he had caught on the edge of his white clothing.

"If Tessai were here, he could get out the stain," he said, lips pulled into a pout as he glanced over at his friend.

"I've found that Ulquiorra has some skill in that avenue," Sousuke replied pleasantly, never taking his own gaze off the assassins, who were treating them with a greater respect and distance. In the span of thirty seconds, five of their own had been dispatched. It was perhaps the first wise decision they had made.

Kisuke brightened at the thought. "I might have to borrow him, though he won't obey me as well as he does you." His grin turned mischievous as he leaned in closer towards the lord of Hueco Mundo, voice becoming a low purr. "I think that Ul-chan might be a little jealous."

A bright blue streak shot past the two former captains, neatly impaling one of the assassins that had been circling behind them. Another quickly followed, nearly clipping Urahara's hat is it sunk into the chest of a second assailant. Blinking, they followed the trajectory to find Ishida perched on the railing of their balcony, already prepping another arrow on Ginrei Koujaku.

"This is hardly the time for flirtations, wouldn't you agree?" he suggested in his usual arrogant tone, face lighting blue as another arrow glowed to life on his bow.

Urahara chuckled, shaking a few more drops of blood from Benihime. "Ishida-kun, how nice of you to offer your aid."

One arched eyebrow twitched before the Quincy smoothly shifted his aim and released a single arrow, though fully capable of shooting more than one at once. He was giving them opportunity to dispatch their own enemies.

"One might almost think you were fond of us," Sousuke added, sharing a look with Kisuke before darting forward in a blur. Two quick swipes of Kyouka Suigetsu and two more of the Onmitsukidoh tumbled to the ground, staring blankly at the shattered remnants of their weapons.

"If you want to see it that way," Ishida replied blandly, gleaming glasses hiding his eyes. "I just don't take kindly to intruders."

Any further conversation was then hampered by the concerted attack of the remaining assassins, who threw themselves at the three men with little concern for their own safety. Two went after Ishida, throwing projectiles his direction to force him to dodge and hopefully upset his aim. The remaining four leapt at Aizen and Urahara.

Aiming at Aizen, they were again swinging for empty air, weapons aimed at what had been a rather effective illusion. Urahara smirked at the sight of it and concentrated on his own opponent. He parried the high slash of one enemy and easily sliced down the one next to him, watching blood spray against the white of Aizen's balcony. Such a mess.

Lightning crackled on his fingertips as he prepared a kidoh to throw at the other opponent, when he felt the sharp prick on his neck. It threw him off balance in his surprise for a moment and rather than dispatching the second assassin with grace, he executed a clumsy throw that was debilitating rather than deadly. The assassin crumpled, clutching the blackened injury at his side as the remnants of the energy crackled against the balcony rail.

Frowning, Kisuke reached up with his free hand and grasped at the side of his neck. Something small and cold met his fingers, and he jerked it free, feeling the small trail of blood resulting from the wound. Surprise registered quickly as he eyed the dart, whatever had been contained within it now injected into his bloodstream. He never even noticed when a blue arrow shot by him to impale the perpetrator of the attack.

'_This can't be good_,' his mind supplied for him, even as he examined the dart. Poison or something sopiferous most likely. However, he wasn't too concerned. He was immune to most of the agents that the Onmitsukidoh employed and had a good tolerance to the rest of them. Standard procedure for the second division, after all. Or at least, it had been before the practice was outlawed. It had been quite the necessity for the third-seat, whose side responsibilities required a lot of physical strength and stamina.

"Kisuke?" Aizen's concerned voice appeared near his ear.

Urahara blinked, realizing that the battle had ended in the span of time it had taken him to contemplate the dart.

Bodies littered the balcony including the one he had only injured, though their map remained thankfully undamaged. Ishida-kun was wrinkling his nose in disgust as he dismissed Ginrei Koujaku, and Aizen had already sheathed Kyouya Suigetsu, looking perfectly composed.

Shaking his head, Kisuke flicked the dart aside. "It's nothing," he replied with a dismissing shrug, unconcerned. "But that was too easy. The soutaichou cannot possibly believe they could have effectively dispatched us."

"No, you are right." Sousuke glanced at the corpses littering his balcony and inwardly reminded himself to get the lower Arrancar to clean up the mess. "There must have been another purpose. Reconnaissance, perhaps."

Urahara inclined his head, following Sousuke as they headed off the balcony. The silent footsteps of the Quincy trailed along behind them.

"Do you think that we missed one, then?"

"Undoubtedly," Ishida replied in a bored tone and pushed his glasses up on his face, "they were only trying to determine whether or not the Kuchiki siblings and Abarai were actually here. If they managed to assassinate one of their enemies in the process, then it would be a bonus."

Kisuke frowned, the scent of freshly spilled blood still making his nose twitch. Really, he had been away from the battlefield for too long. He was getting soft. He took a step and then stumbled, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. His body wavered and he slumped.

Before he could fall, however, Sousuke caught his arm. "Kisuke?"

Inside, the shopkeeper was cursing himself for being so naïve and perhaps just a touch too arrogant. "Ah, it appears that whatever was in that dart is affecting me, after all," he said with a faint chuckle, mind beginning to spin rather unpleasantly. "Kurotsuchi's been b--"

Brown eyes widened, and Sousuke was quick to support his friend as his knees abruptly buckled beneath him. He could feel Kisuke's heart racing wildly, far too fast for it to be normal. Sousuke caught him as his legs completely gave out.

"What do you mean?" the lord of Hueco Mundo demanded.

Kisuke shook his head and then regretted the action when it gave him a sense of vertigo. "Poison," he mumbled, words beginning to slur. "Or something. I don't know. I'd... have to get... lab t'see." He waved vaguely towards the balcony, feeling his extremities beginning to tingle. "I left the dart out there. You'll... need it."

And then, everything went black, sending Kisuke into blessed unconsciousness.

Alarmed, Sousuke shifted the dead – not dead, just unconscious – weight in his arms and carefully turned Kisuke's head. He found the small wound at the base of his friend's neck, blackening around the edges like a burn. His senses discovered flickers in Kisuke's reiatsu as well, distortions that were nowhere near normal. This wasn't good.

"Aizen-san?"

He shook his head. "Find Gin," Sousuke ordered, scooping the unconscious man into his arms with relative ease. The hat fell off blond hair, but he left it for now, though Kisuke would only pout about it later. "Tell him to get Szayel and come to lab five. He's likely in the residential area where your room is. I'm sure you remember the way."

The Quincy's gaze seemed locked on the unconscious shopkeeper, for once breaking his stoicism to see a glimmer of concern beneath. Though he would normally balk at such an obvious order, this time he would obey.

"I will."

His response was said to the former captain's back as Aizen was already hurrying down the corridor, looking less like the lord of Hueco Mundo and more like a frantically worried friend or brother. If only Soul Society could see him like that, Ishida remarked to himself. Utterly human in so many ways considering the villain they were trying to paint him as.

Shaking his head, he turned and went in the opposite direction to find Ichimaru and Kurosaki, hoping to kami that he wouldn't find them in a perverted position.

------------------------------

a/n: Hate to leave ya on a cliffhanger but that's the way the cookie crumbles, I suppose. Next and last part is in the process of being written. Still, I hope you enjoyed, and comments on characterization are always appreciated!

A note, if you see me disappear in November, or find erratic updates, do not be surprised. NaNoWriMo starts on the 1st of November and as I am taking part in it, I'll have little time for anything else. I will return full force December 1st, however. I'll try to update when I can. Thanks!


	26. A Toppling Mistake Part III

**Title: A Toppling Mistake (Part III)**

**Characters: Hueco Mundo cast, Ichigo/Gin, Yoruichi, Ishida**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Graphic, Violence, Language, boy/boy smut, angst, fluff  
**

**Words: 6321**

**Description: Seireitei's true intentions are dragged into the light as Szayel and Aizen struggle to find the antidote to their vicious poison. **

* * *

'_King, something strange goin' on in here. Even Zan's a little worried._'

Holding back a growl of frustration, Ichigo ignored Shirosaki for the second time in as many minutes. He didn't know what his Hollow was talking about since he couldn't feel anything unusual. Shirosaki probably just wanted some attention because he'd been cheated out of sparring Stark earlier that day.

"_In a minute_," Ichigo responded just a bit crossly. He was more concerned with the assassins and the mess they left behind than whatever crawled up Shirosaki's ass. He would deal with the Hollow later.

'_Fine. But if it topples yer ass, don' come cryin' to me when I become king_.'

"Ichigo?"

He shook his head, dismissing the unnecessary concern. "Nothing. Shiro's acting up is all," he answered as Gin squeezed his shoulder worriedly. "We've got other stuff to worry about."

"If ya say so," Gin replied, though he wasn't entirely convinced. "Maybe ya just need ta let him out a bit."

Ichigo's lips curled into a smile. "Well, I had planned on doing that earlier, but someone wouldn't let me spar with Stark."

"I dunno who that could've been," Gin replied with all innocence, not regretting his actions in the slightest.

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo's prepared come-back, likely more teasing, was halted as they rounded the corner of the residential area for their guests. The hallway was rather crowded, of both Arrancar and Shinigami alike. A few bodies littered the floor, dressed in the familiar get-up of the Onmitsukidoh.

"Came after all," Gin murmured, unable to help the surprise in his voice. "But it doesn't really look like a failed rescue."

He had a point. Byakuya didn't look annoyed or angered by a failed attempt at saving him. In fact, he seemed uncomfortable, as though he had realized something he hadn't wanted to admit to himself. He was hovering in the doorway to his room, leaning up against the doorjamb though trying to stand straight for the sake of appearances.

Nearby, Rukia remained within touching distance of her brother yet still kept a safe level of space between them. Byakuya's dissatisfaction with both her and Renji had been a subject of some jokes amongst the Arrancar of Hueco Mundo. And Renji himself was also present, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger.

Stark and Halibel also stood in the hallway, the latter crouched over one of the fallen forms of the enemy. The first Espada was leaning against the wall, arm crossed nonchalantly over his chest as the other barely covered a dramatic yawn.

"Yo," Stark greeted with a flip of his wrist, "_mis amigos_."

Gin lifted a brow. "What happened 'ere?" he questioned and swept his gaze over the circumstances. He could pretty much guess but wanted to hear it from their mouths instead.

As if on cue, Halibel's fingers pried off the mask covering the corpse in front of her, revealing an assassin's face that slackened by death. At the sight, Byakuya's whole countenance hardened. His hands, hanging down by his sides, curled into white-knuckled fists.

"Those are Kuchiki ensigns," he admitted in a cold tone, though it was unclear if he was being purposefully assistive or if he was speaking to himself out of sheer shock.

Gin smiled in Byakuya's direction, like one would a dog that was behaving particularly well. "Well, lookee here. Kuchiki-hime is actually helpin'," he commented sarcastically. He still wasn't too fond of the Kuchiki noble, though he did prefer Byakuya over Rukia. At least the brother didn't have designs on Ichigo like the midget.

He was given a cool look of disdain, but Byakuya kept his mouth shut. He had nothing more to say. It was clear that he hadn't intended to be heard, but that his shock had proven louder than his restraint.

"They weren't here to rescue nii-sama," Rukia whispered, her voice carrying loudly in the contemplative silence. Her face was drained of color, disbelief etched into her features. "They were here to _kill_ him."

"You sound surprised," Stark added in a lazy drawl, though his eyes still watched her sharply. "You really shouldn't be. Having learned what they had planned for Ichigo, after all."

Rukia's mouth opened, gaze narrowing at the obvious familiarity that the Espada took with Ichigo, before she seemed to sense her location and thought better of it. She shook her head, choosing a different approach.

"But nii-sama is the head of the house--"

"Not any longer," Byakuya inserted quietly, his words met for her ears alone. In these close quarters, however, everyone heard. "One disgrace too many, it seems."

"A noble of no use?" Halibel posed, rising to her feet and making a vague gesture. "It is no surprise that they would choose assassination over the chance of you spilling some secret that they can't risk the enemy knowing."

Renji growled, offended by her lack of respect. "Kuchiki-taichou's not--"

"I am _**not**_ your captain anymore," Byakuya interjected in a tone so cold that everyone present felt a flare of ice crept up their spines. Barely repressed fury and perhaps a touch of humiliation gleamed in his grey eyes. "And it would do you well to remember that."

Byakuya said nothing further, turning back into the room that had been designated for him and closing the door sharply behind him. Somehow, he avoided the loud noise of a slam.

Those remaining in the hall were left staring at his exit. Though there was a smile of indulgence on Stark's face, as though secretly amused by the Kuchiki noble's behavior.

Gin snorted, entirely unimpressed. "As theatrical as always," he drawled. "Kuchiki-hime can't help but make an exit."

Blue eyes glanced at her brother's door before again falling to the body of the assassin who might have succeeded in killing Byakuya were it not for Stark. Her brother wasn't completely helpless without his Shinigami abilities, but he might as well have been. She swallowed thickly, realizing that she was even more indebted to Aizen and the others than she had been before.

"They were here as well," A familiar voice interjected, accompanying the sound of feet stepping near silently over the floor. "Not that I'm surprised."

All of those present turned to see Ishida, pushing up his glasses and giving them a gleam that hid his eyes. He stood on the outer fringes of the gathered group. The edges of his clothing were spattered with blood.

"That they also failed is likewise not unexpected."

"Here?" Ichigo repeated. "You mean--"

"I mean," he began, stepping around some of the curious Arrancar and looking down at the fallen Onmitsukidoh, "that though the unskilled louts tried to kill Aizen-san and Urahara-san, they failed. Well... almost."

"Dammit, Ishida!" Renji snarled. "Quit bein' mysterious. Just say what ya came here ta say."

With a high and mighty huff, Ishida glanced down at the corpse. "These do appear different than the ones who attacked Aizen-san," he murmured to himself, ignoring Renji's annoyed growl. He lifted his head finally and met Ichigo's gaze. "Urahara-san was struck by a dart tipped with some poison."

Ichigo's eyes widened in shock. "What? What do you mean? You said they failed!" Worry stuttered through him for both his teacher and a man who was becoming like another father to him. A real father at that. Not some crazed psychopath.

"And they did," Ishida replied coolly, the perfect picture of poise. "I didn't say he was dead, just fighting off the poison."

Gin twisted his jaw. "Ki-kun's immune ta th' Onmitsukidoh's poison," he pointed out, hating the twisting concern that was curling in his gut.

"Not this one," the Quincy replied with a shake of his head. "Aizen-san said for you to bring Szayel to laboratory five."

A wave of nausea suddenly swept through Ichigo, and he blinked, swallowing down an abrupt onslaught of saliva. His stomach was churning quite unpleasantly, and Ishida's words didn't really register with him. It became that much harder to focus.

'_Yo! __King__!_'

It felt like he heard Shirosaki's voice but only on the very edge of his mind, as though his inner ears were stuffed with cotton. And then, the ground suddenly seemed so far away. He blinked, but it didn't clear the dancing dots from in front of his eyes. He swayed on his feet.

"Whoa..." One hand lifted to his head, which felt as if it were floating on a frayed string, only vaguely attached to his neck.

Gin's concerned voice was an echo in his ear. "Ichigo?"

"_Amigo_," Stark added, suddenly sounding closer, "are you alright?"

"I... really don't feel so good," he managed to choke out, and it felt like the ground was trying to swallow him. He could hear both Shirosaki and Zangetsu yelling for him, but it was coming through a far tunnel.

Thin fingers grasped his shoulders, digging in tightly. It hurt far more than it should have.

"Were you hit by a dart?" Ishida's voice demanded, and it was a shade too loud and frantic for Ichigo's spinning senses.

Ichigo shook his head and nearly vomited when it made his stomach lurch. "No," he managed, and it sounded more like a moan. "He... just scraped me."

And then, Gin was there, prying Ishida's fingers off and shoving the Quincy away. His hands fell on Ichigo's arms, far more gently. The blackness was trying to swallow him, and Ichigo fought valiantly against it. Warmth crept up his throat and into his face, but it wasn't a blush. It was the heat of a fever. He was a doctor's son; he knew the difference.

Ichigo could sense Stark move in closer ,even as Gin's fingers beginning to pat him down carefully, concern in their nearly frantic motion. He was searching for the telling wound, and Ichigo's consciousness was fading too rapidly for him to point it out for his lover.

And then, Gin's fingers skittered across a smear of dampness on Ichigo's bare skin. It really was just a scratch on his arm. It hadn't even cut the fabric, and it had barely bled. But sharp eyes could already see the edges blackening like a burn. If so much blood hadn't already been in the air, Gin might have smelled it earlier. But as it were, he could barely make it out above the stench of death.

'_I am sorry, Ichigo. We are trying. Please, bear with it_.' Ossan's voice again.

What did he mean? Why was he apologizing?

"Why didn't ya tell me ya were injured?" Gin demanded, cold fingers cupping Ichigo's face and turning his lover's head so that he could look at him.

Brown eyes lifted towards him, unfocused, pupils rapidly shrinking and expanding. He was fighting, but it was a losing battle.

"It was just a scratch," he muttered, trying for indignant and failing when his tongue tripped over the words. "It didn't even... hurt."

'_Ichigo?_'

'_King!_'

His fingers felt so numb, and the grasp he had on Gin's nemaki loosened, sliding to the side. "Tired..." he slurred and dropped, Gin's hold the only thing that kept Ichigo from sliding painfully to the floor. Barely hearing the voices on the edge of the peripheral.

"Kurosaki?"

"Stay with us, _amigo._"

"What's happening to him?"

"His pupils shouldn't look like this, Stark."

"What kinda poison acts this fast?"

"Ichigo!"

When his lover failed to respond, Gin hurriedly checked his pulse, fear creeping down his spine. Ichigo's heartbeat was a rapid and frightened thing beneath his fingertips, and Gin was too preoccupied by it to really notice Stark and Halibel kneel down next to him. The former inspected the still blackening scratch, which was spreading at an alarming rate. The latter searched Ichigo's eyes, his irises golden, though the rest remained white. And she could clearly the blood vessels darkening to a deep and unhealthy shade of red.

As if to further scare them, Ichigo's reiatsu chose that moment to drop to a dire level, only to surge highly enough to rattle the walls. Gin felt the edges of Shirosaki in the rippling reiatsu and just knew that somehow the Hollow was helping Ichigo.

Nearby, Rukia gave a sharp cry of pain, the sudden press of reiatsu stealing her breath. She wobbled and had to grab onto Renji's arm to keep her balance, though the taller man wasn't doing much better than she.

Though unable to speak, Gin could tell that Ichigo was clinging to the faintest edges of his consciousness. Against his fingers, his skin was growing noticeably warmer with each passing moment, and he knew that he had to hurry. Taking Ichigo was his first priority.

His head snapped up, being one of the few who weren't suffering under Ichigo's out of control reiatsu. "Stark!" he practically barked out, despite the fact that the man was right next to him. "Bring Szayel ta Lab Five. I don' care what he says 'bout his damned beauty sleep." There was no teasing in his tone.

Stark rose to feet, posture long having lost all sense of indifference. "Sure thing," he responded crisply and then vanished to the surprise of the Shinigami still standing in the corridor.

Gin scooped Ichigo into his arms, a faint moan escaping his lover's lips at the sudden change in position. "Halibel, get this mess cleaned up 'nd make sure th' guests're well guarded."

"Yes, sir." Her green eyes were narrowed, but something a lot like concern gleamed in their depths.

Orders therefore given, Gin turned, his movements carrying the fearful edge of agitation. Laboratory five seemed too far away for his comfort as everything he had been trying to prevent crashed over him. Some protector he had been.

Footsteps followed him, Rukia slipping by Halibel even as Renji was grabbed by the busty Espada. "Is he going to be alright?" she asked with worry.

Gin glanced at her, finding her forehead pinched. Her hand was out, as though she had planned to grab him but later thought better of it. Smart woman.

"As soon as I get _my lover_ ta the lab, he will be," Gin growled under his breath, refusing to even look at her.

"You were supposed to protect him," Rukia snapped, seemingly forgetting herself. The sight of Ichigo, paling and shaking with each passing moment, seemed to bypass her effort at self-restraint.

Gin paused for a moment, stiffening at his shoulders and then over his entire body. He had an acid-laced response to give, and it hovered at the tip of his tongue. But so did the knowledge that she was right, and that burned more than anything. His fingers tightened, perhaps a bit too uncomfortably. It took several breaths before he managed to grit the words out.

"An' that's exactly what I'm gonna do," he responded sharply, and with a flit of shunpo, he put distance between them that she could never hope to follow. And he doubted she could find her way to the proper laboratory.

The guilt that swelled in his stomach, however, wasn't so easy to escape.

----------

The lab would have been silent were it not for the sound of Szayel humming under his breath. Some tune from the real world, rather distracting and dark. It helped that his voice was at least somewhat pleasant, but still, Gin had no interest in hearing the Espada perform his more favorite tunes. What he really wanted was silence, where he could hear and count each and every one of Ichigo's breaths. Listen to that proof of life.

Perched by his lover's bed, he hadn't moved from Ichigo's side since he had brought the teen in. He had only been able to watch helplessly as Ichigo's condition began to slowly worsen over the last few days. His usually tanned skin was pale, ashen in color. Every breath was a laborious task, and though he burned with fever, his hands felt clammy to the touch. It frightened Gin more than anything he had ever felt, including the one time he had experienced the breadth of the soutaichou's reiatsu and those rare occasions when his captain was feeling truly angry.

Aizen-taichou and Szayel were working tirelessly with very little sleep and round the clock to try and find an antidote. But first, they had to identify the substance, which was proving difficult to pin down. The dart that had been used to strike Kisuke and the blade which had struck Ichigo had both been retrieved. Research had proven that the poisons had been applied freshly and were only active for a limited period of time unless introduced to the bloodstream. There was little active sample to harvest.

"This poison is really quite fascinating," Szayel practically sang from where he stood across the room, hovering over his vials of bubbling liquid like a child in a candy store or Yachiru when there was fresh blood. The look of glee on his face was nearly orgasmic. "I'm jealous I didn't create it myself."

Gin growled low in his throat, unable to appreciate the Espada's comments when that very poison had been used against Ichigo. He wasn't amused by Szayel's enthusiasm. Neither it seemed was Aizen.

"Not to use against my allies, of course," Szayel quickly amended, disliking the anger that was radiating from Gin's reiatsu and knowing that it was wiser if he watched his words. "The scientist in me can't help but be amazed."

"Just find th' damn antidote," Gin demanded, his every nerve wrung tight. The stress of the past couple of days had taken their toll on him, as well as the lack of sleep and meals. "Or we'll be needin' a new eighth Espada. Perhaps I'll just let Stark and Nel take ya out ta play fer a while. Let ya explain ta them what happened ta their _amigo_."

The pink-haired man huffed and squared his shoulders indignantly. "I'm working on it," Szayel stated and placed a hand on his hip, gesturing freely with the other hand. "Arrancar, I know. Shinigami, I know. Hollow, I know. But part-human, part-Vizard, part-whatever-the-hell Ichigo-kun is… well, _that_ I don't know. It will take some time."

"He doesn't have time," Gin reminded him stiffly, despising that part of his hope was placed on the shoulders of the more-than-slightly deranged Espada.

"And _I_ can't work any faster," the Arrancar countered with a vague gesture, a faintly girly motion that never failed to make Gin doubt his true gender. "Unless you'd rather I kill him with an antidote that I rushed to create?"

Gin's brows twitched, but from which emotion he wasn't sure. "Just stop admirin' the poison and get ta work, Grantz."

Holding up his hands, Szayel agreed. "Whatever you say, Ichimaru-sama." He turned back towards his beakers and test tubes and burbling liquids of questionable substances. And then, he sighed an almost lovelorn sound. "Though I do wonder when the lovely Ishida-kun will visit again."

Gin rolled his eyes and promptly focused on ignoring anything further the Espada planned to say. He returned his attention to Ichigo, who was shivering once more, despite the sweat racking his body. Gin frowned and lifted the wet rag again, dotting at Ichigo's forehead. Stark's idea, but it certainly seemed to lower the young Vizard's temperature, even if only temporarily.

The teenager murmured something then that Gin didn't quite catch. His head lolled towards the relieving coolness, and his eyes fluttered, bleary and unfocused. Iris still gold with the rest bloodshot. He was hovering on the edge of consciousness, fading in and out at infrequent intervals.

"...Gin?"

"I'm here, _mi vida_," the former captain responded softly, knowing that loud noises were quick to inspire a fierce headache in his current state.

Despite the lack of focus in his senses, Ichigo managed the smallest smile of recognition. "I know that. Urahara-san?"

"Ki-kun will be fine," he assured his lover. "And you, too. Aizen-taichou'll fix both of ya." He adjusted their fingers before again twining them.

A cough in the background reminded him of a certain Espada's presence, his ego never one to allow being forgotten or unmentioned.

"And if Szayel gets offa his lazy ass, he'll help, too," Gin added with the faint traces of a smirk.

Gin didn't know if Ichigo caught the last bit, however. When he dared lift his eyes to his lover's flaxen face, Ichigo was already fading back into sleep. His breathing took on a more ragged edge, rattling in his lungs. But despite all, that he at least looked alive. Especially when compared to Urahara Kisuke.

Dotting at Ichigo's forehead, Gin stole a glance at the geta-boushi. Urahara lay as still as death on his own bed, face pale and body sunk into the covers. He barely twitched, though the same fever must be raging in his body. Aizen-taichou had called it a type of suspended animation, something Kisuke had learned to do in the second division that was helping to delay the effects of the poison. The only problem was knowing if the symptoms were getting worse or not since his body didn't respond. And the fluctuations in his reiatsu couldn't be detected because the suspension kept it at the lowest possible level for survival.

Gin could only hope that in the end when Aizen found the antidote, Kisuke could be woken from the suspension.

Worry again filled his heart and, he returned his attention to his lover, feeling every inch of helpless. He couldn't do anything to fight this. It wasn't a battle; there wasn't an enemy. He could only wait and trust and hope and chase away the nightmares – the fever dreams – when they came. He didn't know what Ichigo saw because the teenager only muttered incoherently, but the fear and concern that spiked his fluctuating reiatsu was enough to worry Gin.

The more he sat there tending to Ichigo, the angrier he grew. Until it was a white-hot and yet cold fury in the pit of his belly. It took every effort not to grab Shinsou and storm into Soul Society, specifically to hunt Kurotsuchi down. This poison had to have been that bastard's work. And he just knew that the sick freak was probably in his laboratory, salivating over the possible outcome. Most of all, however, Gin felt a hatred beginning to cultivate itself.

He had despised Seireitei, its rulers and its law. He had detested many of those in charge and abhorred many of his fellow Shinigami. He wanted to see Chamber 46 burned to the ground and a new leader set in place. He looked forward to the day Aizen-taichou took the throne. But he hadn't hated, hadn't loathed, hadn't wasted his breath on the darkest of emotions.

Gin had carefully primed his anger and all the varying shades of it. Had used the fury to his advantage, had let it shape his strength and his training. Had let it drive him in conquering his Hollow. But he had never let it control him. Now, however, a hatred was growing. And he was hard pressed to stop it.

By all rights, it should have been him. _He_ should have been the one to be poisoned. He and Aizen-taichou and Tousen, who ironically enough Seireitei hadn't bothered to attack, should have been the ones to suffer since they had started everything. Yet, the cowards had attacked Ichigo. And Kisuke. Admittedly, the two were traitors, but Soul Society had struck first in their case. The stupid bastards were just trying to fix their mistakes in the same way they always did. By destroying the accidental results.

It burned his blood, set his fingers to twitching. And even his Hollow was beginning to cackle with a mad glee, a lust for death.

He felt a presence on the edge of his reiatsu moments before a hand settled on his own. If it weren't for the voice filtering through, easily familiar to him. He would have reacted violently. As it were, it took every effort to rein himself in.

"Gin," Aizen-taichou reprimanded gently. "You will hurt them." His fingers were calm and soothing though firm.

As if to punctuate his words, the sound of glass breaking filled the room, snapping Gin from his reverie. He blinked and focused, realizing belatedly that his reiatsu was snapping around the room violently. The shattering sound had been Szayel dropping one of his beakers as he gasped for breath, one hand clamped onto a table as he struggled to remain standing. And to the two poisoned men, whose reiatsu flickered on a minute-by-minute basis, it must have felt like an immense pressure had settled on their chests. Though Ichigo appeared to have weathered it better than Kisuke. To be perfectly honest, Ichigo almost seemed to be leaning into the power as he would Gin himself, perhaps recognizing his lover unconsciously.

Wincing, Gin quickly reined in the lashing tendrils of his reiatsu, allowing the eighth Espada to breathe again. He looked into his former captain's concerned eyes and realized that Aizen's hand had stopped his own from clenching around the washcloth too tightly. He had already squeezed a few drops of water onto Ichigo's face, splashing his cheek.

"Sorry," he murmured, dropping his head as he lightened his death grip on the wet rag.

Aizen withdrew his hold and straightened, gaze both understanding and carefully guarded. "I understand your anger," he explained, his other hand occupied by a collection of test tubes in a rack that rattled softly in the lingering remnants of Gin's scattered rage. "But the hatred will only cloud your judgment. Ichigo needs you now. Not your anger, Gin."

Feeling every bit the chastised child, Gin nodded and carefully uncoiled the clenched rag, ever-so-gently dotting the droplets of water from his lover's face. He drew in a breath and prided himself on managing one that wasn't ragged or sharp.

"Any luck?"

Behind them, Szayel was regaining his senses, muttering curses under his breath that were carefully devoid of any names. He began to sweep up the mess, though his body still felt weakened by the onslaught.

Gin watched as a bevy of emotions crossed his captain's face and for a moment betraying the helpless feeling he too harbored. "Perhaps," Aizen conceded and set aside the test tubes momentarily as he paused by Kisuke's bed.

One hand flitted out, the back of his pressing against the shopkeeper's forehead. Urahara didn't even flinch, didn't move at the touch. Still, he felt almost blazing hot to the touch, causing Aizen to wince.

"I've at least identified the poison's main purpose," Aizen continued as he withdrew his hand. "For lack of a better explanation, it is trying to turn them human."

Surprise flickered across Gin's expression. "Human?"

Nodding, Aizen picked up the rack again and headed to one of the many tables in the room. Brown eyes watched a gurgling liquid as it shifted colors from blue to colorless and back again.

"Bit by bit, it is eating their reiatsu." He paused then, face unreadable. "Were they in a gigai, they would become human at the end. But because they are in spirit form, they will eventually disappear. Permanently."

Gin tried to grasp this concept. By disappear did Aizen mean...

"They won't reappear in th' livin' world?" he asked, voice taking on a hoarse edge, one rippling with fear. "That's wha' ya mean by disappear?" Something inside of him cracked and shattered then, heart squeezing painfully in his chest. Throat tight and burning. Eyes prickling like they hadn't since he was a child in Rukongai.

No more Ichigo. Gone forever. Lost to him for eternity. Bright and fiery Ichigo. Who asked for little and gave so much. Who said he loved Gin and actually meant it.

"Yes." Aizen exhaled heavily and laid his hands down flat on the table. "And unfortunately, we don't have any convenient gigai to put them in." His shoulders were hunched and weary as he stared at the test tubes and beakers, none of which were spontaneously offering a solution.

Gin took in a shuddery breath as reality dawned on him in all its horrible and brutal glory. A desperate part of him wished for Inoue Orihime's power in that moment. He would sacrifice Shinsou and his Hollow, every kidoh spell and shunpo itself to have the ability to heal Ichigo. To be able to reject this poison right out of him. To make things better. As they were. As they should be.

"Taichou--" he began in a choked whisper but was interrupted.

"It's really quite unique," Szayel thoughtlessly offered, despite the glares thrust his direction. "But I'm confident we can come up with an antidote."

Gin wanted to shake his head but couldn't find the energy. And a murmur drew his attention back to Ichigo then, and he automatically dipped the washcloth in the nearby basin and wrung it out. He wiped the cold cloth over Ichigo's forehead and neck, hoping to cool his feverish lover.

"Will it be 'n enough time?" he asked himself, frantic but terrified of the answer.

Gin trusted Aizen-taichou completely, but he also knew the man wasn't infallible. They didn't have all the time in the world.

And for all his assurance, Aizen simply didn't know.

-----

"There weren't any others," Yoruichi explained tiredly, fingers rubbing over her forehead as she paced back and forth across the front of the room. "I checked the entire perimeter."

Sousuke inclined his head, chin resting on his knuckles as he balanced his arm on the table. "I figured as much," he replied aloud, features appearing drawn and stressed. It was obvious that he had gotten very little sleep in the last few days. "The poison was their real intention."

Gin muttered a curse under his breath, sinking further into his seat and feeling every drain on his exhausted body. "Cowards," he hissed, the bloodlust still simmering beneath the surface. "Yer informant had nothin' ta say 'bout any of this?"

The Shihouin heir shook her head and paused in the middle of her pacing to stare angrily out the window. "The information I was given has proven to be fabricated. I was betrayed."

"Who was it?" Tousen inserted, leaning forward in his chair and looking the healthiest of those present. Of course, he wasn't nearly as concerned for the two patients in laboratory five as the rest sitting in the meeting room. He only cared as far as he did because they were allies and loyal to his lord.

Still, it was a necessary sacrifice, leaving Ichigo and Kisuke's side for the moment to have this discussion. And unluckily, Gin had to leave their care to Renji and Rukia for the time being, though Halibel and her Fraccion were there to keep an eye on all of them. Since Yoruichi had returned from her scouting, it was the perfect chance to compare notes and see if anything could emerge. Unfortunately, the ninja knew nothing of the new poison and could offer nothing for the antidote. Which meant that it was up to Szayel and Aizen's genius. That was their only hope.

Yoruichi rolled her shoulders, dragging Gin's attention away from his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. "I won't say," she responded, and there was a hint of fury in her tone. "I prefer to deal with the traitor myself."

"Soul Society is closing ranks," Sousuke mused aloud, the fake information all the proof he needed. "I do not think it is wise for you to step foot there again, Yoruichi. All of your spies are suspect."

Dropping down into one of the empty chairs, Yoruichi let her head hang back against it. "No, you're probably right. Looks like I'm taking up residence here."

"Won't Ki-kun be pleased ta hear it?" Gin remarked dryly, a restless emotion curling inside of him. He didn't want to be too long from Ichigo's side, worried that something might happen in his absence and needing to feel his heartbeat just to be certain.

Tousen drummed several fingers against the table, boredom evident in his usually placid expression. "Then what are our next actions? I can assume that you have already made some sort of plan?"

"Of course." Aizen rose to his feet, a sense of agitated unease circling around him as well. "We have no choice. If Szayel and I cannot find the antidote within the next twenty-four hours, we must execute a raid on Seireitei."

"They'll be expecting that," Yoruichi reminded him, though it wasn't so much to protest as it was to inform him of the risk. "It might as well be a trap."

The blind man inclined his head. "They will be better prepared this time. I don't think we can take them by surprise."

"I don' care," Gin growled to the surprise of everyone, his usual cheery and somewhat taunting character gone. "I'm goin' if I need ta, and ain't none of ya gonna stop me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Aizen replied, and his eyes were just as hard. A very dangerous anger was beginning to glint in his gaze, one that did not bode well for Soul Society's safety.

They had gotten away easily with the last flash-invasion. The loss of two captains and a variety of random buildings aside. Gin and Ichigo could have done so much more. But that hadn't been their mission, and so they had utilized some element of restraint. It had served as a warning of their power, just as much as it had served a purpose.

Yoruichi chewed on her lip, uncertain she liked the hazardous aura that was beginning to fill the walls of the room. "Well, that determination is all well and good, but what exactly do you plan on doing? Tearing down the twelfth division until you find the cure? Or worse, dragging Kurotsuchi back here? I can't see either as being particularly successful."

"Then lucky fer us, we ain't gotta do either," a voice announced from the doorway, making all heads whip around.

Renji was standing there, looking just a shade uncomfortable. "Err," he began intelligently and scratched his chin with one finger. "That pink-haired fruit says he found it. The antidote, I mean."

It took several seconds for his words to sink into the minds of those gathered around the table. And then, Gin was on his feet and following after Aizen-taichou, who had already shoved Renji into the hallway.

"Tell me," Aizen demanded impatiently as Renji hurried to catch up.

A scowl fixed on his face as he obviously despised having to play the errand boy. But since it meant that Ichigo wasn't going to be dying anytime soon, Renji was willing to put up with it for the moment.

The vice-captain noisily cleared his throat. "I dunno much. He was working on somethin'. And then, he started cacklin' like crazy." The frown on Renji's face deepened, probably recalling an unfortunate memory. "He said ta get ya, and he was already in the midst of putting the stuff into syringes. Don't think Rukia or that busty chick'll let him put it in Ichigo yet though."

"He'd better not," Gin muttered, not wanting Szayel to go sticking any questionable substances into Ichigo until Aizen had verified its authenticity. For the moment, he was thanking Rukia internally. But only a little.

They made it to the laboratory in record time, a group of former Shinigami trailing along behind Aizen as he stepped inside and made a beeline for Szayel, who was in the middle of an argument with Rukia. The eighth Espada held two syringes in one hand and had the other balanced on his hip, lips firmed into a displeased pout that vaguely resembled Yumichika's look of vexation. Halibel, in the meantime, was standing in between the two beds of the room, arms crossed as she looked on.

"What is this I hear about an antidote?" Aizen demanded as he swept into the room, interrupting the argument between Espada and Shinigami.

Rukia, who had placed herself between Ichigo and Szayel with a hand firmly clenched around her still-sheathed zanpakutou, flickered her gaze towards Aizen. "He says he found one," she explained and only relaxed her guard when Gin stepped out of the crowd and made a beeline for his lover's side, tossing Szayel a warning glare. "I wanted to wait for you to at least look at his formula."

The eighth Espada rolled his eyes. "I would not be so plebian as to make a mistake!" he argued with a hint of anger, not liking his abilities to be questioned. "And I'm not interested in a death sentence either, so I wouldn't try to kill them."

"Even so," Rukia replied, jaw clenched tight with tension, "I don't trust you."

Faintly orange eyes narrowed. "Nobody said you have to, **_Shinigami_**," he hissed. And it was a tone laced with disgust for the very word. "You're in our world now, and--"

"Enough," Aizen inserted calmly, cutting into their argument with a subtle pulse of reiatsu that further hammered his point. "Szayel, let me see what you have discovered. _I _will decide if it is safe."

Squaring his jaw, Szayel jerked his head into a nod and whirled away from Rukia, steps tight and composed. "As you wish, Aizen-sama," he declared as he handed over the vial of supposed antidote.

Taking it in hand, Aizen lowered his eyes thoughtfully and walked away, mumbling under his breath as he moved to analyze the strange, clear liquid. He left the others behind, tension and anticipation running high in the room.

As he fiddled with vials and microscopes and other scientific instruments with Szayel muttering alongside him, Gin moved to Ichigo's side. His lover didn't look any better, face so ashen it was hard to believe that he had once been tanned. His lips were moving in a constant murmur, and there was rapid-fire movement behind his eyelids. But he was still alive, and that was all that mattered.

Taking Ichigo's hand in his, Gin was again alarmed by the clamminess to his lover's skin. The fever was rising again; its cycles usually following the same path as the constant flux in his reiatsu. He chanced a glance over at Urahara, the shopkeeper continuing to be as still as death. He could tell that Kisuke was breathing, his chest rising and falling in a slow and steady motion. But otherwise, he showed no signs of life.

Gin absolutely hated feeling this helpless.

Movement on the corner of his vision and he caught sight of Aizen-taichou approaching, grim with determination. "As far as I can tell, this is the best option we have," his captain stated, two syringes in hand. "Let us hope to see some improvement."

He passed one to Gin to hold as he sat on the edge of Urahara's bed. Carefully rolling up the man's sleeve, he injected the antidote into Kisuke's veins.

Behind them, Szayel sniffed. "As if I would make a mistake. I assure you, Aizen-sama, the formula is perfect."

"We shall see," Aizen acquiesced as he applied a small bandage over the tiny puncture in Kisuke's arm. He then turned towards Gin. "Do you trust me?"

Though hesitant, Gin realized that there really was little else they could do. It was either try the antidote, instigate full on war by invading Seireitei and hunting down the true cure, or sit around and wait for Ichigo to succumb to the poison. And there was no way Gin was going to allow the last.

He sighed and shifted his gaze back to Ichigo. "Ya know I do," he mumbled and made a point to show it by pushing up the sleeve of Ichigo's nemaki, baring his arm.

After all, if he didn't trust Aizen, what the hell was he doing here?

"This _will_ work," Aizen stated firmly as he efficiently emptied the contents of the syringe into Ichigo's veins. A bandage was gently pressed over the small wound. "It _has_ to work."

Gin couldn't help but agree.

-----

Translator's Note:_ Mi vida_: Spanish for my life.

Author's Note: I drag myself from the depths of NaNoWriMo once more to bring you an update! I'm confident with my word count so I thought I'd ease your cliffhanger by bringing another. Mwa ha ha! Well, this is the end of _A Toppling Mistake_. The plot continues in _The Key to Everything_, but I'll shove in some side pieces first.

I'm at 31,000 words! Huzzah! Only 19,000 more to go! Reviews help fuel my muses so I'll be glad to hear what you think of this piece. I do hope you enjoyed! And thanks, everyone, for your patience!


	27. Aftermath

**Title: Aftermath**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo**

**Rating: T (for kissing and stuffs)**

**Warning: Fluff, fluff, fluff. And I'm not ashamed. **

**Words: 1529**

**Description: He, more than anyone else, understood just how fragile Gin was, and Ichigo had long resolved to never break him. **

* * *

Ichigo struggled out of the darkness as though escaping physical, clinging tendrils of it. He fought with grim determination, clawing his way out and gasping for breath when he finally broke free. His eyes shuttered open slowly, only to immediately close again when the harsh brightness of the lab's fluorescent lights nearly blinded him. Wincing, he tried to lift a hand to cover his eyes but found his fingers were trapped by something warm.

He attempted to lift the other and was successful, laying his palm over his eyes. His head faintly throbbed, and his mouth was dry. His entire body felt as if it had been wrung out like a wet rag. And his arm ached, but damn, he was alive. And he hadn't even known he was that close to dying.

_'Very close, in fact,' _Zangetsu's voice poured through his mind, sounding both relieved and exhausted.

'_Too close, king_,' Shirosaki added with a drawl, even more fatigued than the old man. '_Almost killed me, man. Not cool.'_

Ichigo winced at the addition of both voices, which for some reason seemed to bother his senses. It took him several seconds of searching through his scattered memory to remember what had happened. Then, it poured through his mind. The attempted assassination. The battle. The poison. And then, darkness.

He couldn't believe that something as simple as a minor scrape had nearly killed him. And a part of Ichigo was ashamed for letting that rather cowardly attack take him down.

Forcing a breath past his lips, Ichigo peeled his eyes open once more. His hand was still warm. And his gaze followed the path from shoulder to arm to hand, finding his fingers firmly clasped within longer, thinner ones. Gin's fingers.

His eyes traveled further, finally setting sight on a head that was pillowed on the bed, pressed against Ichigo's hip. In fact, most of Gin's upper body was laid across the bed, leaving the rest in a certainly uncomfortable position perched on a chair. Gin's face was turned towards him, slackened with sleep, which seemed like a good thing with the fatigue that seemed to line his eyes. His forehead was pinched, as though he were suffering from a bad dream.

On impulse alone, Ichigo reached out with his free hand, smoothing the tips of his fingers over the furrowed brow. His mind was still fuzzy from waking, and the lingering effects of whatever the hell that poisonous concoction had been.

Gin stirred beneath his touch, and releasing a small breath, eyes slitted open, revealing a thin line of amber red. Confusion flickered across Gin's face before he abruptly sat up, chair screeching behind him from the sudden movement.

"Ichigo," he murmured, leaning forward with obvious relief. "Yer awake."

His first attempt to speak failed miserably, and Ichigo swallowed, his response coming out scratchy and worn. "Sorry to worry you," he replied and squeezed the fingers he still held.

His gaze flickered beyond his lover, seeing Urahara's form on the bed nearby. His chest was rising in even intervals, looking far better than the glimpses Ichigo half-remembered in his delirious state.

"Urahara-san?"

"He'll be fine," Gin responded, and his voice sounded thick to Ichigo, strained and barely contained within his slight frame.

The teen dragged his eyes back towards his lover. Gin was watching him, something peculiar in his expression that Ichigo couldn't quite place or name. He couldn't even begin to associate it with something, the look a mixture of so many emotions that it was difficult to pin even one.

"Gin?"

He stirred when Ichigo called his name, free hand reaching to press the pads of his fingers against Ichigo's arm. They brushed shortly, a feather-light touch, against the white bandages that covered the remnants of the small scratch that had nearly killed Ichigo.

Gin licked his lips, and it was only then that Ichigo realized the hand he held was trembling. "I've never felt so helpless 'n my 'ntire life," Gin murmured. And it was very nearly broken. "Ya were dyin', and I couldn't do anythin' but watch 'nd wait."

It wasn't entirely his fault, and yet, Ichigo felt guilty. He wanted to apologize, though he wasn't sure why. He simply knew that he didn't like that look on Gin's face, one that spoke of fear and uncertainty. He much preferred the teasing, confident man usually presented.

He didn't know what to say, having never been in this situation before. He wanted to kiss Gin, but his aching body wouldn't respond to his commands. It was melded to the comfort of the bed and preferred to remain that way. But he had to erase that look; it was killing him, his heart feeling as if someone was squeezing it out of his chest.

Ichigo lifted his free hand, hating how much effort that required, and managed to curl his hand around Gin's face. His fingers slipped into long silver strands, softer than he had ever thought they would be against his skin. And then, his thumb rubbed gently over a high cheekbone.

"Gin," he murmured, hating that his voice sounded so scratchy and hoarse, betraying the current frailty of his health. "Kiss me."

There was the briefest barely present moment of hesitation, and then, Gin's lips were on his, mouth tasting faintly of tea and peppermint. The kiss was slow, leisurely and gentle like Gin feared breaking him. Ichigo's fingers massaged against Gin's head and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into his lover's mouth and reminding him that he was _still here. _He had always been absolutely useless at words and had found that actions spoke a hell of a lot better.

When the kiss ended, Gin pressed his forehead to Ichigo's and let out a small sigh of relief, feeling every muscle in his body finally loosen. "Ya scared us," Gin admitted, breath a warm brush across Ichigo's lips. "Ya scared _me._"

"Sorry," Ichigo whispered, really not knowing what else to say. "I didn't mean to." With a great effort, he shifted his body a few inches on the bed in silent invitation.

Gin took him up on the offer, lying down beside him. A small groan escaped him as kinked muscles seized up on him from his previous sleeping position, and Gin winced.

"Uncomfortable chair," he muttered.

Ichigo let loose a wheezy sound that was probably supposed to be something close to a chuckle. "I don't think they were meant for sleeping," he replied and sank back into the comfort of the bed.

The weight of his lover pressed against his side was comforting, and he turned his head, laying it against a bony shoulder. One hand settled across his belly possessively, fingers tracing nonsense designs.

"Ya shoulda said somethin'," Gin began after a moment, rubbing his chin gently over the top of Ichigo's head.

Ichigo snorted, though it came out more of a raspy snuffle. "And you should've told me about the assassination. I can protect myself you know."

Fingers brushed across the bandages pointedly. "Ya didn't do so good a job of it here," Gin reminded him. "Protectin' yerself includes lettin' people know when ya get hurt."

The Vizard had every intention to argue, to make his point. But Gin had already shifted to kiss him again, not minding what was surely an awful taste in his mouth. And Ichigo was inclined to let him, not liking the harried ripple in his lover's reiatsu. He had really worried Gin, and he hadn't ever wanted to do that. He knew better than anyone just how fragile the former captain was. And he had vowed already to never break him.

As much as he wanted to continue and let his body succumb to Gin's touch, he could feel the fatigue pulling at him. The poison was working its way out of his body, but it had still sapped his strength. And he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

His fingers curled around the folds of Gin's overly-large robes. Ichigo broke off the kiss, a small sigh escaping him.

"Tired," he murmured and closed his eyes. "You staying?"

"Stupid question," Gin retorted. "I haven't left ya yet."

"I know."

His breathing was beginning to even out, and Ichigo was glad that the sense of fear and sorrow was fading away. But still, a little verbal reinforcement couldn't hurt. He didn't mind saying it, and he knew that Gin needed to hear, probably more than anyone.

He curled closer, letting the warmth of his body soak into the chill of his lover's. "Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

He felt Gin's hold tighten around him, but he didn't comment on it. He simply let the exhaustion carry him into sleep. The last thing he heard was Gin returning the sentiment, voice soft and quiet, as though admitting it too loudly would allow Fate to rip him away.

* * *

a/n: I have emerged from NaNoWriMo victorious! Huzzah! If anyone's interested, the link to the story I created is available in my profile. And now, it's back to our regularly scheduled writing!

We're heading into another few pieces of side fics and then back to the main storyline. The end of the main storyline is very near, but even after that, I'll probably still have some side bits to post. We'll see as that inevitable ending draws near.

I hope you liked the chapter! More is definitely to come! Thanks everyone!


	28. The Key to Everything

**Title: The Key to Everything **

**Characters: Isshin, Hanatarou, Aizen, Urahara, Rukia, Gin/Ichigo**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Some spoilers and language. That's it**

**Words: 5658**

**Description: With Ichigo and Kisuke still recovering, the key to end it all falls right into Aizen Sousuke's hands. **

* * *

The knocking disturbed Aizen from his thoughts. He glanced at the clock, lifting a brow when he took in just how late it was. Far too late for anyone to be knocking on his door. Unless...

His heart did a careful stutter.

Unless something untoward had happened in the laboratory.

Tearing his attention away from the schematics he had been considering, the lord of Hueco Mundo rose to his feet, throwing a robe on over his attire. It was annoying that he had been in his room to begin with, Gin practically throwing him out of the laboratory and demanding that he get some sleep. He would watch over Kisuke for him. Aizen internally snorted. As if his lieutenant had any room to speak with the way he hovered over Ichigo. And despite the fact that no man was his master, Sousuke acquiesced to the request, not wanting to add another worry to Gin's list. Besides, the solitude of his own room also meant that he could fret on his own time without betraying the weakness to his Espada.

That was until he was met with the silence of his quarters, once soothing but now highly aggravating. He was twitchy, half-expecting at any moment for Kisuke to appear unannounced with another inane idea. Not that he enjoyed the man's spontaneous visits or anything; he had simply grown used to their occurrence.

The knocking echoed again, much louder this time and with growing impatience. Suppressing a growl of annoyance, Sousuke stalked towards the door and only great restraint stopped him from ripping it open.

"Wha..." His words died on his tongue as bafflement replaced irritation, the individual standing in his hall certainly not who he had expected.

"Yo!" Kurosaki Isshin greeted with a wave of his hand. "Been a while, Sou-chan. Mind if I come in?"

It wasn't often that Aizen lost his composure. And it was to Isshin's credit that the sight of Ichigo's father managed to make him falter for even a moment. His mouth fell open and then promptly closed as he was rendered speechless. Then, with a firm set of his shoulders, Sousuke found his shattered equanimity.

"Isshin," he greeted as pleasantly as one who had been completely flummoxed could do. "Won't you come in?"

Ichigo's father grinned broadly, looking just a bit too happy for the invitation. "Was wondering when you'd get around to that," he declared. "Don't mind if I do. Excuse me."

And with that, Isshin and all his broad-shouldered manliness stepped inside Aizen's personal quarters. Only then did Sousuke notice the rather meek presence that had been hiding behind Isshin's girth. Hunched shoulders and droopy blue eyes was all the identification that the Vizard needed. The very man who had so helpfully given Ichigo the incentive he needed to turn his back on Soul Society.

"And good evening to you Yamada-kun. I didn't expect to see you here," he stated and moved aside so that the smaller Shinigami could come in as well.

A somewhat shaky and hesitant smile was offered his direction. "Thank you, Aizen-saaaaan!"

Crash!

Sousuke could only watch with some amusement as the Shinigami tottered forward and promptly tripped on his door jamb, crashing to the floor. His medical bag flopped over his head and skittered across the floor.

"Ow."

"Hana-kun! You should be more careful!" Isshin declared, having turned around at the sound of the healer toppling to the ground.

He reached down and grasped Hanatarou by the back of his shihakushou, hauling him to his feet. Isshin was given a sheepish smile in return as the medic wobbled a bit before finding his precarious balance. Sousuke, in the meantime, found Hanatarou's scattered bag and handed it to the young man, trying this best to hide his amusement. Best to maintain decorum after all.

"Ah… thank you, Aizen-san, Isshin-san," Hanatarou said with a faint bow. He looked terribly adorable.

Really, every time Isshin made his presence known, he caused commotion. Though to be fair, Yamada's clumsiness was likely his own entirely, but he had still been brought by Isshin. Therefore, Sousuke could blame it all on the loud man standing in front of him.

"Why don't you take a seat, Yamada-kun," Aizen suggested, both for the young medic's safety and for his own dignity. "And as for you, I can only assume there was a reason you barged into my quarters at near--" he quickly checked the clock "--three in the morning?"

At his question, Isshin's face quickly lost its jovial and almost joking glow and settled into a more familiar sobering expression. As Hanatarou tottered over to a seat, looking just a bit intimidated by the size of the room and all that decorated it, Isshin's eyes pinned Sousuke down.

"I heard," he began slowly, as though he were carefully choosing his words. And ever so subtly, the sense of reiatsu rose in the room, prickling at the edges of Sousuke's own barrier. "Yoruichi was kind enough to inform me during one of her usual mail delivery visits, what happened a few days ago." Gone was the clown-like man most of the world saw. "You were supposed to protect him."

And this... this right here, was the reason Soul Society feared Ichigo. Not just for the anger of a father who seemed pretty damn perturbed right now. But for the heartbreak of a lover who was still pacing back and forth in a laboratory with little sleep. For the fury of countless friends who wouldn't sit still the moment they had heard of Ichigo's injury. For the connections this one simple boy managed to create, simple little bonds that were stronger than steel and nigh unbreakable.

If Sousuke broke into a sweat for just a moment, if the hair on his arms rose for the fraction of a second, he didn't let it show. A father's ire was never one to invoke carelessly. And he had to hold back on his smirk. Soul Society had made their worst mistake. But first, to calm the fury that was being directed at his person.

Inclining his head, Sousuke met Isshin's gaze equally, not to be cowed despite the rumors he had heard of Isshin's abilities. "I protected him to the best of my abilities," he replied softly. "It was sheer bad luck that they were prepared with a poison." Something in him twisted then, but he ignored the distraction.

A growl echoed in the other man's throat, mildly intimidating. "Bad luck, my ass. I didn't leave him in your hands for you to let some Seireitei lackey nearly kill him."

"You didn't give him to me in the first place. Ichigo came of his own volition… with or without your consent," Sousuke reminded him, fingers of one hand tightening fractionally. And though it might not have been the wisest thing to say, it was a point that needed to be made.

He could see the battle on Isshin's face, restraint fighting with his need to argue and make his own point. He was Ichigo's father by rights, but he had also given his son to the other world in more ways than one. By looking at it from another side, one could almost say that he was no longer the teen's father at all. Still, no matter how it appeared, Isshin loved his son and would give him up for nothing. And especially not to the greedy, corrupt murderers of Soul Society.

Isshin sucked in a breath, rubbed fingers over his forehead, and his shoulders slumped visibly. "Hit them where it hurts. Your strategies haven't changed in the least," he muttered, and though some of the anger bled out of his expression, it was still there and seething beneath the surface.

"Of course not," Sousuke responded, slipping his arms behind his back and lacing his fingers together. His eyes flickered to his other guest. "And Yamada-kun?"

The medic gave a little jump and rubbed the back of his head, all a fluster, as though shocked he was actually remembered. Then again, he had witnessed something one wouldn't normally see between two men of such stature.

"Ah," he replied and ducked his head just a tad beneath their combined look. "When I heard about Urahara-san and Ichigo-san, I came to see if I could be of any help."

Sousuke smiled reassuringly. "You are indeed correct. While the antidote is working well, it would surely make Gin feel better if an actual healer looked over them. Would you like to check on them now?"

Hanatarou practically leapt to his feet, nearly sending him tumbling to the floor. "Yes, sir," he fumbled and reached for his bag. "That, uh, was the whole reason I came."

Amused, Sousuke chuckled under his breath and opened his door, stepping into the hall with the intention of summoning someone to guide his guest to the proper place. The whole affair took a matter of minutes as he located an Arrancar he trusted not to eat the timid Shinigami – one of Halibel's fraccion – and sent Hanatarou off on his way. This also served a dual purpose of ensuring no other ears were listening in on whatever else Isshin wanted to say.

"You don't want to see him yourself?" Sousuke idly questioned as he watched Hanatarou head off down the corridor, already making hesitant introductions with the slim female.

There was a grunt of assent from behind him. "He'd kick my ass for leaving Yuzu and Karin behind, even if they are with Hime-chan and Sado-kun."

Turning, Sousuke regarded his nighttime visitor. Isshin had found a seat in the length of time it had taken Aizen to send Hanatarou away. Now, perched on one of the many comfortable chairs scattered around the room, he was a much less intimidating picture.

"He is your son," he reminded Isshin somewhat cryptically and was rewarded for his enigmatic response by a flash of emotions across the other man's eyes.

Isshin sighed. "And it shames me to say that you have probably been a better father to him than I ever have," he grudgingly admitted, fingers rubbing across his brow again as though it took him great pains to say so. He paused and searched for words before changing his mind and heading in another direction. "How is he?"

"Getting better," Sousuke answered, stepping across the room to his own seat. He lowered himself into his desk chair and swiveled around to face the former Shinigami. "We were lucky to find the antidote in time. He, as well as Kisuke, are still confined to their beds but should be up and about within a week's time."

Isshin's shoulders slumped in visible relief, some of the worry pinching his expression fading away. His hands clasped in front of his body as he folded his elbows on his knees. And then, he released a breath of pent-up air.

"I'm so glad," he breathed, looking very defeated for a moment. "Masaki would have never forgiven me if something happened to him. I wouldn't be able to face her again."

He settled his elbow on the arm of his chair, leaning his weight against it. "Soul Society aimed for him specifically," Sousuke enlightened the other man. "As well as Kisuke. It was only sheer luck that Szayel and I discovered the cure."

A strangled sound echoed in Isshin's throat. "I should have known." He growled, angered glare focused on the floor as though he could burn through solid stone with a glower alone. "Cover up their mistakes in the easiest way possible. Nothing's changed with the fucking corrupt bastards."

"Did you honestly think it would?"

"No," Isshin replied, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and squeezing the tense muscles found there. "But that was the reason he came here in the first place, isn't it? That's the reason we're all here."

Sousuke shifted in his seat, free fingers tapping against the other arm of his chair. "Indeed," he conceded and thought to himself that Soul Society was winning the war for him. He simply collected its cast offs and promptly used them against their former masters. No fool was he, contrary to their belief.

"And your plans? How are they proceeding?"

Lifting one brow, Sousuke regarded him intently. "How kind of you to ask, Isshin. But you _are_ out of the loop; therefore, I cannot share. I will say, however, that they are proceeding as expected."

"Fine." Isshin snorted. "Can you even tell me just what you plan on having Ichigo do?"

No argument. Not a single one. It almost made Sousuke miss his verbal sparring with Kisuke when the other man wasn't being deliberately annoying.

He gestured faintly with his fingers before returning them to their duty as a prop for his chin. "Only what he agrees to do for me," Sousuke responded, a rather amused with his own deliberate avoidance. "I would never push him into anything. I am no fool."

Isshin growled, growing just a tad annoyed. "Look, Sousuke, I only came here for one reason. So stop being as difficult as Ki-kun, dammit," he demanded and rose to his feet with enough force to set his chair to rocking.

Mildly impressed, Sousuke arched one brow. "And that was?"

Dark eyes narrowed as Isshin crossed the floor, prompting Sousuke to stand as well so that they matched in height. "This," Isshin stated and held out a hand, something lying innocently in his palm.

And for the second time that night, Sousuke was rendered speechless. It was only warning bells later that reminded him to breathe, and he sucked in a breath, a very inelegant motion but necessary all the same.

The key. The very key he had been seeking, had been ruthlessly scanning archives and Soul Society's most hidden locations to find. It was right there in front of him, tantalizingly close. Silver metal glinted in the pale light of his bedroom, and for all its importance, it seemed so terribly small to have the entire war resting on its shoulders.

"You? How did you...?"

Isshin laughed at his expense. After all, it wasn't everyday that one could make Aizen Sousuke practically stutter.

"Not very eloquent now are you, Sou-chan?" he mocked and slipped the key between two fingers so that he could waggle it prominently in the Vizard's direction. "I was a member of the Royal Guard. Not that you would have known that. As such, it was my duty to guard this thing."

_Thing!_ He called it a thing as if it wasn't the most pivotal piece of metal that Sousuke had been searching for incessantly. Like the key wasn't the very thing he needed to complete his plans and instill himself as the rightful god. How utterly like Isshin.

Kurosaki held out his hand, and wordlessly, Sousuke lifted his own. The key dropped into his palm, feeling strangely heavy to be so small. Barely the length of his middle finger. There was a spark, a sizzle of spirit pressure along his palm as it touched his flesh and the layer of reiatsu he kept cloaked around himself. It was powerful, too powerful for something of its size. And Sousuke couldn't stop staring.

"The old man probably doesn't even know that I took it," Isshin continued with a nonchalant shrug. But his eyes persisted in watching Sousuke, as though trying to decide if it was a good idea or not to finally hand it over.

Curling his fingers around the key, a tad bit possessively perhaps, Sousuke tore his gaze away. "Why are you giving it to me?" he questioned, wondering if this gift came with a price. If there was something he had to pay in return for having what was potentially six more months of searching and spying entirely erased.

"Because," Isshin began, voice taking on a dangerous edge. Giving Sousuke a hint of the dangerous man he had once been and likely still was given the proper incentive. "They tried to kill my son. And I can't just stand on the side and pretend I know nothing. I've done that long enough."

Tipping his head to the side, Sousuke couldn't help where his mouth took him, despite his sheer gratitude. "Isn't that what you're doing now?" he posed with all seriousness, fingers clamped tightly around the key.

Isshin shook his head. "I can't fight in this war. Someone's got to protect Yuzu and Karin. I don't trust they won't come after my daughters. And those kids--"

"Sado and Inoue?"

"Yes." Isshin brushed fingers over his chin and scratched the goatee that hadn't changed. "They are strong, and Hime-chan's healing abilities are second-to-none, but Ichigo didn't want them in the battle either."

It made perfect sense, all except for one anomaly that was currently hiding from Aizen's Eighth Espada. "Ishida?"

A grin broke the surface of Isshin's dangerous calm as he shot the lord and master of Hueco Mundo a knowing look. "You try keeping the boy away and let me know how that goes?" He dropped his voice an octave and looked around, almost as if he expected someone to jump out of the shadows and attack him. "By the way… if Ryuuken comes looking for his son, I'll cover for you, ne?"

"I really don't think that is necessary." Sousuke thought of the elder of the two remaining Quincy, who most likely wasn't going to be a problem. As near as he could tell, things between father and son were a bit... _strained_, for lack of a better word.

He sought to change the subject. "Wouldn't you care to hear more about Ichigo?"

A look of fondness replaced the amusement schooled into Isshin's expression. "I know everything Yoruichi's told me," the man began slowly. "But from her grin, I get the feeling something's being left out. And Ichigo isn't being particularly forthcoming either, though Karin's walking around like she knows a secret I don't. And even Yuzu's hiding something from me."

Sousuke's lips curled into a smile. "Then, you don't know about the turn in your son's love life?" he queried, sensing an opportunity making itself known before him.

He nearly laughed when he watched Isshin choke on his next breath. "No," the older man wheezed, "Can't say that I have." Dark eyes peered at Sousuke. "Care to share?"

The debate within the lord of Hueco Mundo didn't last very long. At the rate Ichigo was going, it would be next year before he even let his father know anything. Besides, the boy wasn't exactly shy about his relationship. And whatever fallout would be worth it just to see Isshin choke again.

"I might," Sousuke teased. "I'll have you know that he and Gin have become _very g_ood friends. In fact, one hardly finds them _separated_."

"Well, can't say that I'm surprised," Isshin said with a very naïve shrug, fingers rubbing across his goateed chin. "He's always... been... able to..." he trailed off, his brow furrowing as the extent of Aizen's insinuations played through his mind.

Sousuke could pinpoint the exact moment Isshin understood by how red the other man's face became as he nearly forgot to breathe in his shock. It was almost shameful how much the sight amused him. Isshin was gaping like a drowning fish, trying to grasp onto what should have been an involuntary and automatic process.

"You mean to tell me," Isshin managed to grit out as he sucked in several deep breaths, "that my son and your... _lieutenant_ are lo--" He choked on the last word, as though he couldn't bring himself to say it and getting a strange look on his face.

The former captain of the fifth smiled patiently. "Lovers?" he supplied for the other man and fought back his chuckles as Isshin wheezed. "And yes, that is what I mean."

He allowed Isshin to reflect on that for another moment, face flushing an interesting shade of red, when something occurred to him. Seriousness replaced the bemusement as he pinned Isshin with one of his more penetrating stares. One that turned even belligerent louts like Grimmjow into a kneeling, jibbering wreck.

"Would you happen to have an issue with that?"

Isshin shook his head, still struck dumb and speechless. "No, but Sousuke, that's a pretty damn big revelation to be springing on an old man like me all of the sudden." He waved one hand in the air, as though trying to grasp onto his lost and always in short supply composure.

"Being human tends to do that to you," Sousuke replied critically, though he knew nothing behind the circumstances of why Isshin left Soul Society and what led him to his current path in life. Honestly, the Vizard was pretty certain that he didn't need to know to be angered on Isshin's behalf. Undoubtedly, something had driven him from Seireitei.

Brown eyes looked at him, and all sense of play vanished. The serious, sober man returned as Isshin straightened.

"Human," he repeated, almost thoughtfully. "I hope you remember that Ichigo, for all his powers, is still just a human. Just a boy."

"He is more adult than you know." He sighed. "Still, I've always been very aware of that truth." Sousuke inclined his head, sensing that they were once again returning to sedate matters. "It is a fact I have always taken into consideration."

Isshin exhaled and scraped a palm down the front of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at the huge and shadowed ceiling. "Masaki probably wouldn't like this, letting him dive headfirst into war. But then, she'd probably just be glad that he's found something to make him happy."

"She was a wise woman, I am sure."

"Much wiser than myself," Isshin replied wistfully and then dropped his hand, dipping it into one of his pockets.

He pulled something out and looked at it, thumb rubbing over whatever objects he held. Sousuke couldn't see them just yet, though he caught sight of the light glinting over their surface. Isshin lingered over the objects for several long moments before he finally turned and crossed the distance between them in a few short steps.

Sousuke arched one brow. "Another key?"

"Not quite." Isshin held out the occupied hand, a silent gesture for his companion to do the same. "I've finished my business here. I need to get back to my daughters before my heart explodes from worry."

Wordlessly, Sousuke humored the older man and lifted his hand, watching as two small objects dropped into his palm. Thin golden bands, resembling wedding rings like the originally western custom. He blinked in confusion. Was this Isshin's subtle way of saying he supported his son's choice in partners?

"Give them to Ichigo," Isshin explained as Sousuke tried to piece out the meaning behind the jewelry. "He'll understand when he sees them."

Sousuke nodded, slipping the rings into his pocket next to the key. "I suppose this means you'll return to wherever it is you are hiding?"

"Is that your underhanded way of asking me where that would be?" Isshin returned evenly.

The query was dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I honestly don't care to know because it is safer for you. Yoruichi knows, and that is good enough for me."

Isshin appeared to accept this response with little argument. "Then, I'll take my leave. Yoruichi's waiting to guide me back out anyway." He stepped towards the door but paused halfway through to look over his shoulder. "You had better protect him, Sousuke. He's still my son."

"As if he were my own," Sousuke promised without a hint of hesitation. In the half-year that Ichigo had been with them, he had grown fond of the boy. As had nearly everyone under his command with the exception of Tousen, who didn't really like anyone, and a few choice Arrancar.

Something flickered across Isshin's face, and it almost resembled regret. "And that's the only payment I'll ask in return. Good luck with your war, Aizen Sousuke."

"And you with yours," came the enigmatic response before Isshin was slipping out the door, closing it behind him with a faint click. Undoubtedly, Yoruichi was waiting for him somewhere beyond it, prepared to guide him out of Las Noches and Hueco Mundo and back into the Living World.

Taking a breath, Sousuke drew out the gift he had been given and looked at the key again. His fingers traced the many planes and he couldn't help but wonder why his luck had once again served him so well. He never would have believed that the key to his victory would have simply been handed to him.

In an uncharacteristic bout of eagerness, Sousuke found himself wanting to head immediately to the laboratory to share the exciting news with those closest to him. Kisuke especially would be thrilled, and he didn't doubt for one moment that his friend had probably already known of Isshin's past. Though he doubted the shopkeeper was aware that Isshin had been in possession of the key.

His decision made, Sousuke slipped out of his room and stepped quickly down the hallway, heading for the fifth laboratory. The few Arrancar he passed dipped their heads in deference to his position, but it was otherwise silent. To be honest, it was rather late, so he was surprised to see anyone up and about at all.

The door to the lab was open, spilling a paler light than what that brightened the corridor in front of him. And he could hear voices beyond, one of which was female, and he had the notion that it wasn't Halibel. Sure enough, when he stepped inside, he found Rukia talking to Ichigo and ignoring the glares that Gin sent her way. Gin would never voice that dislike aloud though, knowing that Ichigo still considered the girl a friend.

Better, however, was that Ichigo was conscious, coloring a damn sight better than it had been a day or so prior. He was more alert as well, eyes clear and their usual brown rather than the gold that had hovered around during his bout with the poison. All very good signs.

And on the bed next to Ichigo's, Kisuke sat up straight, a tired set to his shoulders but determination in his eyes. He was scribbling something in a notebook, an amused smile pulling at his lips as he unashamedly eavesdropped on the conversation between the other three residents of the room.

Gin noticed his presence first. "Aizen-taichou," his subordinate greeted. "I tho'ght ya were otherwise occupied."

That was pretty damn subtle for Gin, a way of saying, "_Didn't I tell you to get some sleep?"_ without showing any weakness.

"I finished my necessary business," Aizen smoothly responded.

His gaze flickered to Kisuke, who had stopped writing and was looking up at him with interest. Perhaps he detected something in Sousuke's tone. Or more likely, he had sensed Isshin's reiatsu.

"Oh?" Kisuke replied, tone full of secret amusement. "And what business would that have been?"

His lips quirked. "The kind that promises an end to the madness, if you will."

Ichigo glanced between the two of them, eyebrow twitching. "Okay, one of you needs to explain something because not everyone understands genius talk," he stated with a scowl, voice still hoarse but sounding degrees better than it had before.

Sousuke smiled indulgently. "How true, Ichigo." His eyes found Rukia. "If you'll excuse us, Kuchiki-san, but we have matters to discuss."

For a moment, the Shinigami looked as if she were going to argue. Logic prevailed; she knew her position in the pecking order, and it was even lower than Yammy. Rukia simply nodded and hurried from the room, telling Ichigo that she would be back later. The door closed behind her and gave them some semblance of privacy.

Sousuke looked around, distinctly remembering that someone else should have been present. "I sent Yamada-kun here. Where is he?"

"He left with Renji a few minutes ago," Ichigo answered before anyone else could. "After healing us, he was a bit tired."

"I see."

"Come on, Sou-kun. Spill it," Kisuke inserted with a grin, setting aside his pen and paper and fixing Aizen with a knowing look. "You're practically brimming with excitement."

Gin chuckled, having surmised the same thing himself.

"You know me too well," Sousuke admitted, stepping between the two beds and pulling his recent gift out of his pocket. "I simply thought I would share the result of my own great luck."

He held out his hand and allowed the key to dangle from his fingers by the string that had been wound through the bow. Immediately, three sets of eyes were locked on it, but only two actually knew its identity. Kisuke sucked in a breath as Gin's mouth nearly dropped, rising to his feet in a stunned sort of astonishment. Ichigo looked between the three of them, his brow furrowing in annoyed confusion.

"What?" he demanded, seeing how speechless his lover and the geta-boushi had become. "What is it?"

"This, my dear Ichigo, is the very thing I have been seeking to put an end to this war," Sousuke answered simply, moving to place the key in Kisuke's hands as the shopkeeper was making faintly grasping motions with his fingers.

Grey eyes sharpened as they looked at the key with amazement, tracing each angled bit of metal with the pad of his fingers. "And how did you acquire this bit of luck?"

"It was a gift," Sousuke replied, a knowing look passing between the two of them. "From an anonymous friend."

Kisuke inclined his head. "Of course. He has important things of his own to protect, after all."

A low growl echoed in the room. Sousuke's attention to returned to Ichigo, who wasn't very amused.

"I could really use an explanation about now."

Gin chuckled, lifting Ichigo's hands to kiss his knuckles briefly. "Aizen-taichou has th' King's Key," he informed his younger lover. "But don't count on 'im tellin' us how."

"Just like that?" Ichigo's cheeks pinked a bit at the intimate gesture.

"Yes," Aizen confirmed, and he turned towards the younger man, pulling out the other item that had been left in his care. "And there was one other gift that I was told to give." He held out his hand, gesturing towards Ichigo with it.

Frowning in confusion, Ichigo gently detangled his fingers from Gin's and opened his palm, watching as two rings were deposited into them. The gold caught the light, and as he tilted his hand, a small inscription could be seen on the inside of the ring. His skin tingled at the faint feeling of reiatsu on the edge of his senses, vaguely familiar and coming from the rings themselves.

Brown eyes widened in recognition, the identity of the anonymous friend no longer a mystery. "He didn't--"

"He said that it was more important to you that he protect your sisters," Sousuke put in gently, watching as Ichigo rolled the rings back and forth in his palm. Something as important to him as the key was to Aizen.

Ichigo snorted and curled his fingers around the gift, tucking his hand safely against his side. "Sounds like something Goat-Face would say." The look on his face was faintly contemplative.

It wasn't hard for Gin to deduce the anonymous friend from there. Still, he turned to his captain, having a feeling that all was not said yet.

"What does it mean, Aizen-taichou?" he inquired with a gesture towards the key. "What's it change?"

"Everything," Sousuke answered, moving back to Kisuke's side and reaching for the key. Enjoying the slight weight of it in his palm. "I no longer have to wait like I had originally planned. We can move directly into the final stage."

Kisuke chuckled lightly, not wanting to risk heavy laughter. "You mean in a couple of days when Ichigo and I are back on our feet."

He tipped his head in acquiescence, knowing full well the consequences if he were to do anything else. "I wouldn't think to leave either of you out."

Sousuke knew far better. It would be pointless to forbid either of them, though he half-suspected Gin had a mind to try. Both Kisuke and Ichigo were rather stubborn and would do as they pleased, regardless of anyone else. Otherwise, they would have never found their way to Sousuke's side in the first place.

For the first time in many months and since the moment he had abandoned Soul Society for his position of power in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Sousuke felt a treble of excitement shoot through him. No more waiting. No more planning and searching. Nothing but the path to godhood standing before him. And all he had to do was reach out and take out.

It was time for Seireitei to fall.

* * *

a/n: Mwa ha ha! The story nears the explosive end. But before that, I have a couple more side pieces for you. And then we dive into _Doomsday _and _At World's End_, the closing ficlets for _Minutes to Midnight_.

I hope you enjoyed it! I loved adding Hanatarou, even if it was only briefly.


	29. Without Understanding

**Title: Without Understanding**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Kisuke**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Minor Spoilers, References to male/male relations  
**

**Words: 3133**

**Description: Takes place between **_**One-Sided Symphony **_**and **_**A Toppling Mistake**_**. In an effort to understand the relationship between Ichigo and Ichimaru, Rukia finds herself on the end of an Urahara lecture. **

* * *

"Ya think yer brother will ever get over being mad at us?" Renji asked, one hand rubbing over the back of his head as he remembered their last encounter with the Kuchiki glacier. Just one glance into grey eyes, and he felt his balls practically freezing off.

Rukia shook her head. "If he regains his abilities, he might just be thanking us," she responded, her eyes carefully scanning the halls around them.

They were technically still in enemy territory, after all. And though Aizen said they weren't going to be harmed, she didn't trust that some random Arrancar wouldn't take it upon themselves to attack unwelcome guests. Not to mention she highly doubted that the Arrancar following Renji and her around was going to step in to help either. In fact, the girl just might casually pretend she hadn't seen anything.

"_If_," Renji repeated with the sharp bite of sarcasm. "Taichou's got ta agree ta the damn experiment first."

"Taichou..." Rukia murmured the moniker under her breath, wishing that it was true. She knew it was habit for Renji, but still, it was a reminder of everything her brother had lost.

Renji winced. "Er... I mean... shit, Rukia, I don't know what ta call 'im now. Anythin' else seems too formal when he's always been taichou ta me."

"I know." She sighed, shoulders feeling stooped under the weight of the circumstances. "But now that we're here, even if he gets Senbonzakura back, he won't be your taichou."

He fidgeted under the reminder, only to square his shoulders. "I knew that when I decided ta help ya," he replied solidly, though she could see that he was troubled by that after having worked so hard to get to the second-seat. "Sides, we might've been on the wrong side anyway. Ya heard what they were gonna do ta Ichigo and Hime, and I can't really agree with that."

"Neither can I."

And that, at least, Rukia believed strongly. Yes, she had come to Hueco Mundo to help her brother, but she had also come to find the truth.

All the hints that Zaraki-taichou had thrown her direction had only been the beginning. She wanted to know why Ichigo had left in the first place and why he had been so angry when she had seen him in Seireitei. She wanted to know just what the captain-commander was hiding and why it felt like everything she knew was suddenly turning out to be so wrong.

They passed a hallway veering off to the right, Rukia vaguely recalling that it led towards the training arenas, when her ears caught a sound. Any response she might have been planning paused as she peeked down the corridor, catching sight of two very familiar forms. She drew to a halt, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight as Renji continued without her, oblivious to what had captured her attention.

She saw Ichigo first and foremost. It had been his voice that grabbed her ears. But he wasn't alone, not that he really was these days. He was with Ichimaru, and something in Rukia stuttered at the sight. It was still hard to believe their relationship. That they were lovers. That Ichigo would allow Ichimaru to touch him. Much less…

Rukia shook her head. Recognizing that the two hadn't seen her yet, she edged towards the wall and peered around the corner, not wanting to be caught. She just wanted to observe, to find out just what they were thinking. There had to be something.

She watched as Ichigo pressed Ichimaru up to the wall, fingers locked in long silver hair as he pulled the man's head down towards him for a kiss. The other hand disappeared within Ichimaru's clothing, likely wrapped around his waist. The traitor for his part had both his hands on Ichigo's hips, squeezing gently. And she idly noticed that Ichigo had replaced his dark blue sash with a much lighter one that matched Ichimaru's.

"Rukia?"

She nearly jumped two feet in the air at the unexpected voice. "What?" she hissed and whirled around to look up into concerned eyes.

Renji arched one brow, wrinkling the tattoo on his forehead. "What're ya doin'?" he asked and then leaned around her, craning his neck to see what she was looking at.

"Nothing," she stated defensively, and he didn't seem to believe her for even a second.

She watched as he realized what had distracted her and made a face, one that she couldn't quite interpret. It wasn't really disgust or disappointment or jealousy. Just a shade of confusion. Renji didn't understand their relationship either.

Shaking it off, he drew back to the safety of the corridor, view blocked by the corner of the wall. "Let's go," he suggested, already stepping back towards their original destination. "I don't want to catch them going at it again. Once was enough."

He had a point, but Rukia found herself wanting to linger, to see if she could find the one thing that would help her make sense of it all. A part of her still didn't want to see it. The same part that felt betrayed and disappointed.

The sound of a rumbling stomach echoed quietly in the hallway, reminding Rukia that they had originally been seeking out a late lunch. Both of them deliberately avoided the main mealtimes in hopes to prevent running into too many Arrancar or Espada. And Byakuya, who refused to leave his room, was usually brought a meal by either Rukia or Renji. They spoiled him far too much.

"Come on," Renji prodded, though only verbally. He knew better than to give her a simple poke with his finger. "I'm hungry."

"Go by yourself," she retorted just a bit crossly, ears somehow catching the sound of the two males down the hall kissing and the faint murmur of Ichigo saying something to Ichimaru. "You're a big boy now."

Renji twitched at the subtle insult and drew himself up straight. "I didn't say that I wasn't," he retorted, bristling. "Fine. Be a voyeur."

"Ooo, big word."

Scowling, Renji muttered something that was probably rude and uncomplimentary under his breath and stalked away. Rukia wasn't too concerned as he wasn't angry with her so much as annoyed. With him gone, she returned to her – for lack of a better word – spying. Whether or not the two hadn't noticed her or had and were choosing not to care, she wasn't certain. Ichigo's senses certainly weren't that acute, but Ichimaru's had to have been.

She peered back down the hall, watching as they continued to kiss with Ichigo very obviously taking the lead in this instance. Rukia was just beginning to wonder if they planned on going at it right then and there, though she had heard that wouldn't be unusual, when they broke apart. Ichimaru said something, voice too low for her to catch, but it made Ichigo flush and scowl at the same time.

Ichigo muttered something in return and took off down the hall, looking just a bit perturbed. But judging by the way his companion good-naturedly followed him, folding his hands into his sleeves with that familiar smile on his face, it wasn't quite so much a disagreement as Ichimaru teasing him. Luckily, they were both heading away from her so that there was no chance of being discovered.

When they disappeared around the corner, Rukia followed as quietly and surreptitiously as she could muster. She really wasn't sure just what she was doing, and part of her felt a bit silly. Possibly even stalkerish. And yet, she wasn't stopping either.

She watched as they walked side by side, carrying on a conversation about... video games of all things. Or at least, the snatches that she managed to catch seemed to go along that vein. It was damn perplexing. Until they arrived at a door and stepped inside. She waited several minutes, pressing her ear to the paneling, and then confirmed the sound of metal clashing. The training room then.

Steeling herself, Rukia very carefully pushed open the door and peered through the crack. She was nearly blinded by the brightness of the fake blue sky and blinked away spots of light. The sound of battle floated to her ears, and it took her several moments, but she finally spotted them above her in the sky.

Ichigo hadn't entered bankai yet. It was more like they were warming up than anything else as they exchanged rapid blows. But Ichigo still had a look of determination on his face, as though it were a real battle and not just a mockery of one.

Her lips thinning, Rukia stepped fully into the room and carefully let the door close behind her. Darting to the nearest rock to conceal her presence, she continued to watch. It made no sense to her. There was no plausible explanation. Why and how. She simply couldn't see it. They were far too different.

Ichigo had honor and determination. He fought for what he believed in, and he was loyal. He was kind, despite the scowls, a genuine good guy.

For all that, Ichimaru might as well have been a monster. The sight of him was enough to make her skin crawl, and she would never forget how he had tormented her. And Ichimaru had betrayed them all, even his dear friend Matsumoto. Not to mention what he had done to Hitsugaya-taichou.

How could Ichigo even consider being with someone like him? How could it have started?

Despite what Ichigo had told her, she still couldn't believe that Ichimaru hadn't manipulated him in some way.

"Taking up a new hobby?"

The unexpected voice made her heart leap into her throat in surprise, and she choked on the next breath. Rukia jumped and whirled around, only to find Urahara-san standing behind her, smiling pleasantly. She realized that she had been caught, and shame and embarrassment colored her cheeks a revealing pink.

"I..." Words absolutely failed her.

He stepped up beside her and observed the same scene she was watching, an almost fond look entering his expression. "Figure if you watch long enough, you'll catch them in the middle of something?"

Her cheeks flared even brighter as she bristled and struggled to draw herself up straight. "That's not--"

"Or maybe," he smoothly interrupted, capturing her eyes with his shadowed ones and completely making her lose her train of thought, "you thought that you would be able to find proof that Ichigo is just being manipulated."

Rukia bit her lip and looked away, knowing that Urahara was right in many ways. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "It doesn't make any sense," she ground out, hating that she had to talk to this man about it. "Ichimaru is--"

"What? The enemy?" Urahara inserted with a raised brow. "And you're where again? For what purpose?"

Flushing, she knew she was easily being outwitted. And she didn't think saying that Ichimaru was just a creepy bastard would be quite enough for Urahara either. He was giving her that knowing gaze, the one that said he understood more about the situation than she did.

Rather than respond, she jerked her attention back towards Ichimaru and Ichigo, both of whom had recently summoned their Vizard abilities. The sight of the bone-white mask on Ichigo never failed to give her a shiver, but she really didn't like seeing Ichimaru's. It only highlighted the angularity of his face, reminding her of the subtle torment he had subjected her to over the years. She shuddered and cast her eyes to the side.

"They're trying to kill each other," she muttered, the sounds of swords clashing endlessly traveling to her ears.

Urahara-san shook his head. "No. They are trying to make one another stronger," he corrected almost as though he were chastising a child.

A wave of powerful reiatsu swept through the training grounds, battering at the two forms observing from the side. Rukia's eyes tracked a stray yet strong _getsuga tenshou_ as it carved a dark path through the sky and headed straight for Ichimaru. He didn't even bother to dodge, just lifted Shinsou and blocked the massive wave of energy with his zanpakutou. A Hollow chuckle echoed from behind the mask, making her skin crawl. And Ichigo in turn sped forward, energy crackling around his fingertips as he... he...

Rukia gaped, her mouth dropping. "Ichigo is using kidoh," she whispered in a completely surprised voice.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Urahara's pleased grin. "Of course. Gin's been teaching him. Unsurprisingly, he's a fast learner."

Rukia grappled with that concept for several long moments, finding it harder and harder to stick to her original thoughts. True, Aizen probably had a lot invested in Ichigo and to train him in kidoh would make sense. But somehow, she had the feeling this wasn't what had occurred.

She watched as they collided in midair again, a ripple of power radiating out from their combined zanpakutou. And yet, despite the intensity of the battle, they were chuckling. She couldn't make out their conversation over their joined blades, but she could hear the laughter.

They were having fun. Despite the fact that Ichimaru's clothes were ripped in a few places and Ichigo had a pretty good gash going on one of his arms. Or that part of his mask had crumbled away, while Ichimaru's was still going strong and didn't look to be fading anytime soon.

"Rukia-san."

Urahara's voice, quietly insistent, pulled her away from watching them. She met the shopkeeper's eyes, his expression rather serious.

"You may not understand it, but I assure you, Gin loves Ichigo. And I'm certain his feelings are returned. There is nothing you could say or do to get between them."

She flushed, a warm rush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I wasn't attempting to," she responded and honestly didn't know if her answer was true or not. She had followed them with the intention of... _something_. And watching them hadn't really answered anything, only leaving her with more questions. More wondering. More confusion.

The older man leveled a look at her, filled with centuries of experience. "Come now, Rukia-san. Lying to me is the same as lying to yourself. And you'll only isolate Ichigo if you see solely what you want to see."

Rukia swallowed, his words carrying a harsh sting. "I just..."

She struggled to explain herself, eyes following their movements as they both hit the ground. They skidded to a stop with Ichigo emerging victorious or something similar to it. And a part of her half-suspected that Ichimaru had allowed him for the sake of what happened next.

Ichigo's fingers curled in the collar of Ichimaru's robes and jerked the silver-haired man towards him. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, Ichigo claiming Ichimaru's mouth with a ferocity that surprised her.

She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the sight, as though she could discern intentions just from watching. "I just don't understand. I don't get what Ichigo sees him in," she murmured more to herself than her companion.

From the corner of her gaze, she could see Urahara smile. And she couldn't quite interpret which emotion heralded it.

"An equal," he answered simply. "A friend. Someone who can love him unconditionally and already does. Someone who hasn't and never will be afraid of him."

And what could she say to such a response?

As much as she hated to hear it, Urahara's words had the ring of truth to them. Ichimaru could understand what she and Renji could not. Ichimaru _wouldn't_ be afraid of Ichigo's mask.

Her fingers curling into fists, Rukia forced her eyes to the sand, where it was safe and she could hide the sudden heat behind her eyelids.

"It would probably be best if we left now," Urahara continued, surprisingly cheery. He was already turning away from her, picking his way silently across the sand in the same manner in which he had snuck up on her. "It seems Ichigo is in a rather aggressive mood today, and I for one do not wish to watch."

A blush stained her cheeks when she realized that he was indeed correct. Ichigo certainly seemed to be the one dominating the moment, and the sight of it touched something inside of her. Something she didn't want to admit just yet. So it was a tactical retreat when she hurried after the shopkeeper and slipped out of the training grounds, breathing a sigh of relief once back within the stark white hall.

Urahara-san was nowhere in sight, somehow managing to disappear in the few seconds it had taken her to follow. Sighing to herself, Rukia squared her shoulders and turned in the direction she thought the mess hall to be in. Maybe if she was lucky, she could catch Renji before he left. Then, she wouldn't have to walk back to their rooms and face her brother alone.

Ichigo and Ichimaru lingered on the back of her mind, as well as Urahara's words. About how Ichimaru could understand him. How he wouldn't fear him; how that was the basis for their relationship. That the very things that made their union difficult for her to comprehend were the very reasons that they worked so well together.

She thought about what it meant to be a Vizard, to be Shinigami and yet have part of oneself inhabited by a Hollow. To be able to access that power but with a price. She wondered if she would take that leap, if she would be able to conquer her own Hollow.

She doubted it.

And Rukia wondered to herself. If she had been able to understand, could she have gotten there first? But then, she had known for how long and still hadn't been able to help Ichigo. He'd ended up going to the Vizard, the outcast Shinigami for aid because she couldn't give it to him. Hell, she hadn't even understood what he was going through enough to help him. She'd been utterly useless.

"_No, he's right. I am. I do love him." _

"_You don't know him like I do. And you never will."_

"_Someone who can love him unconditionally and already does. Someone who hasn't and never will be afraid of him_."

"_Maybe you didn't know me that well in the first place." _

Chewing on her lip, Rukia mentally chastised herself. It strung; it really did. Her inability to understand their relationship didn't make it any less honest, any less true. Nor did her opinion really matter. Ichigo had already proven that to her.

They were together. And if words didn't explain that, then she would simply have to resign herself to incomprehension. Just like Renji.

A sobering thought indeed.

* * *

a/n: Rukia is damn difficult to write, though I'm not sure why. Renji is surprisingly easy. -grin-

One more side piece and we'll be back to the main storyline! Which is drawing closer and closer to the end! But not to worry, there will be more side pieces to come afterwards.

An update for the new year! Hope everyone enjoys their 2009! And thanks for reading!


	30. Of Perception

**Title: Of Perception**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Ishida**

**Rating: T (for language)**

**Warning: Some cursing, mentions of a slashy relationship**

**Placement in Timeline: Takes place after **_**Without Understanding**_** and during **_**A Toppling Mistake**_** before the antidote is discovered. **

**Words: 1478  
**

**Description: Without knowing why, Rukia finds herself defending Ichimaru of all people. **

* * *

"What the fuck is Kurosaki thinking?" Ishida demanded, suddenly breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy blanket in the laboratory.

All eyes - the conscious ones anyway – present in the room turned towards him, where he stood leaning against the wall with arms folded over his chest. The Quincy reached up, fixing his glasses on his nose.

"I don't think he's thinkin'," Renji responded, forehead furrowed in confusion as to what brought about the sudden statement. He leaned back in his chair, sprawled out as comfortably as he could get in the steel and wood contraption. "At least, not with tha' head," he added with a drawl.

Rukia rolled her eyes, perched in a chair nearest to the bed. "Don't talk about him when he's unconscious," she retorted. "It's rude."

"It's not like he can hear us 'nough ta care," Renji retorted, fingers fiddling with a block of wood. The blade had snapped off the knife he was using to whittle it, so he'd given up, leaving him with a half-finished creation impossible to identify.

Rukia reached out and slapped him across the back of his head, causing him to fumble the block and drop it on the floor. As he muttered under his breath, shooting her a dirty look, Rukia ignored him.

The three of them seemed to have conveniently forgotten about the other resident in the room. Szayel was out at the moment, claiming a need to look up something in another lab. Stark had stopped by earlier with Nel, but the two had departed when she had gotten a tad too cuddly with Ichigo, the others fearing for his bodily safety. And Ichimaru had momentarily left as well but provided little explanation. The trio had breathed a sigh of relief at his departure, uncomfortable in his presence.

"Still," Ishida continued, ignoring their usual comedy routine. "I don't quite understand."

Giving Rukia a foul look, Renji shook his head in disbelief. "How can ya not understand? Yer the only one I actually thought was... ya know." He made the same vague hand gesture as before as he groped around for the lost piece of wood.

"I'm not the one with the weird crush," Ishida retorted with a bland snort. "That would be the _eighth Espada_." He said the title as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, thoughts of the other male sending a shiver up his spine.

"Che," Renji agreed, voice muffled as he peered under the bed. "Pink-haired freak."

"Quite." Ishida sniffed and shifted position, crossing one leg over the other. There was no love lost from that particular battle, despite Szayel's _obsession_. "But I did not see Ichimaru-san as Kurosaki's type."

Rukia frowned, her gaze falling on Ichigo, whose face was beading with sweat again. "That's the damn truth," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the rag that was soaked in cool water and dotting it over his face carefully. "I don't think anyone is Ichimaru's type."

"Obviously, Kurosaki sees something in him, but I just don't get it."

Clearly, Ishida was stuck on this point. It was something that he couldn't comprehend, and therefore, it bothered him immensely. He enjoyed and relished logic, and Kurosaki's relationship with Ichimaru seemed to defy all rationale.

Rukia sighed, feeling as if she was in a bad position; she didn't get it either. Ichimaru said he loved Ichigo, but she didn't believe him. Urahara-san claimed that the two had feelings for each other, and she should be able to believe that. There was definitely something; she just couldn't name it.

"And there has to be something. Otherwise, Ichimaru-san wouldn't have bothered spending any time here with him," Ishida continued like speaking aloud might enable him to piece out some answer.

Renji huffed, successfully locating his block and flopping back into his chair. "I don't see why we're even talkin' about this," he muttered. "S'not like we can convince Ichigo of anythin' otherwise."

"True. He's even more stubborn than you, Abarai. And that's really saying something," Ishida replied snidely, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Stuff it." Renji scowled and shot him a glare. "Yer the one that brought it up anyhow."

He remained unperturbed by the Shinigami's attitude and shook it off easily. "Well, when the proof's lying right there in front of you--"

"Maybe we're not supposed to understand," Rukia interjected to cut them off before Ishida said something uncomplimentary. She might have felt the same way, but it was somehow wrong to put voice to it. Like she would be insulting Ichigo.

When both males looked at her, fully expecting an explanation, she squirmed.

"Maybe it's just one of those things," she suggested. "And maybe he just makes Ichigo happy. That should be the only thing that matters."

Renji and Ishida looked at her as though she'd grown another head or started spouting Aizen's praises.

"Ya were the one most against it," the redhead proclaimed, one hand tugging at his headband, having lost all interest in his whittling. "Ya changed yer mind awful quick."

The Quincy watched her critically, glasses catching the gleam of the lights and seeming to make his eyes disappear. "Something happen?" he questioned, almost hinting he knew something she didn't.

Bristling at their accusing looks, Rukia rose to her feet, dropping the rag back into the bowl of water. In her mind's eye, she recalled what she had seen between the two – Ichigo and Ichimaru. And her mind's ear remembered what Urahara-san had said to her.

"No," she replied defensively. "I just don't think we have a right to question. Ichigo's made that pretty clear."

The twin looks of confusion the two gave her proved that they didn't understand. Rukia shook her head, unable to explain what she didn't quite comprehend herself.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Rukia declared, though she didn't feel the slightest bit thirsty. She just needed to think somewhere away from the two idiots.

Muttering under her breath, she pulled open the door and stepped out into the corridor. Only to collide with someone who was attempting to enter at the same time. Rukia bounced back, a small cry escaping her as she stumbled backwards and hit the hall. An apology was on her lips until she realized just who she had bumped into.

Ichimaru was standing there, arms folded into his sleeves. A strange look on his face as he regarded her curiously. And just from his expression, she knew he had heard some if not all of the conversation.

All sense of politeness left her. "I didn't know you were in the habit of eavesdropping," she spat, hating what he might have heard.

Ichimaru just looked at her, however, his countenance unreadable. "Considerin' the subject, it didn't seem polite ta interrupt." He tipped his head to the side, lips spreading into a smile.

She knew that pretty much meant he had heard enough. "You should have said something." Her eyes narrowed.

"But ya were speakin' fer me jes fine," Ichimaru replied cheerily, as though mocking her. "'Sides, I'm done explainin' things ta others. And Ichi is, too."

Rukia hated that he seemed damned proud of himself, like he believed he had finally won her over. It made her spine shiver at the thought, and she felt as she had before he turned traitor, when he used to mock her for his own enjoyment. She really hated this man.

"Don't thank me," Rukia growled at him, all sense of civility gone from her tone. "I didn't do this for you. I did it for Ichigo because it would hurt him if they hurt you." And without even bothering to dismiss herself, she stalked down the corridor, feeling his snake-like gaze slithering after her.

Left behind, Gin watched her departure, amusement indeed trickling into his expression. Wouldn't Ichigo be happy to learn about this? And Gin would make sure to be the first to tell him, as soon as Ichigo awoke.

He thought that perhaps he might be able to get along with Rukia, after all.

But right now... now, he planned on walking in on Ishida and Abarai-kun, who were still hypothesizing amongst themselves. He might not be able to alarm the Quincy but seeing Abarai lose his cool would serve as a source of entertainment. And he would take nearly anything at this point to take his mind off Ichigo's condition.

The thought of seeing the redhead flounder was enough to brighten his day just a bit.

* * *

a/n: And that concludes the small side stories. Starting next time, we return to the main storyline. I know that's a reason to celebrate! I hope you enjoyed this piece. Thanks everyone!


	31. Doomsday Part I

a/n: Just a warning. This chapter moves fast! So pay attention.

**Title: Doomsday**

**Pairings/Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Stark/Halibel, Ulquiorra/Nel, Just about everyone**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Violence, Language, Spoilers from the most recent chapters, Dubious familial relations, picking and choosing from Kubo's timeline...  
**

**Words: 6653**

**Description: A countdown to midnight, the final battle begins as the Gotei 13 and Aizen's forces clash in the streets of Seireitei. **

* * *

The sense of eager anticipation that hung over them like an electrically-charged cloud seeped into Ichigo's senses. The moment he stepped out of the Garganta – skillfully summoned by his lover – and onto the hardened dirt ground of the Soukyoku Hill, everything felt different. In a way, almost prematurely triumphant. Ichigo knew that was nothing but a culmination of the arrogance of everyone behind him, however. He knew far better than to think it was going to be simple.

"Everybody got yer orders, right?" Gin questioned, stepping beside his lover and looking down into the streets of Seireitei spread out before them.

For an instant, everything seemed perfectly peaceful and still. Tranquil. Unmarred and uncorrupted. But things that were diseased usually appeared fine on the outside until a bloody expulsion revealed the true nature beneath. And Ichigo felt no better at his second trip into Soul Society than on his first.

He had a home now, a place he belonged without question, but the feeling of their betrayal still rang deep. And he hated that it could still make him irrationally angry.

There was a murmur of agreement and consent from those gathered behind him. The sense of bloodlust and destruction-desire grew stronger, seeping into their reiatsu sweepingly. Seireitei had to know they were there, not that stealth and subtlety had been their intentions to begin with.

"Of course, boss," Stark drawled, shoulders slung back as his sharp gaze carefully took in the vista before him. "We've been ready."

Gin inclined his head, a gust of wind buffeting at his silvery hair and sending it fluttering about his face. "Then, get ta it."

It was as much a command as some of Aizen's more stirring orders, and the sense of glee that it produced was nearly stifling on the large hilltop. Ichigo turned and watched as his allies – his _friends_ – all leapt into varying directions, heading for their own respective assignments.

This was it. Right here. This was the final battle, the apogee of Aizen's plans to become god. There would be no other war but this moment. And for some reason, the thought was almost giddy.

"Bye-bye, Itsygo!" Nel called out, even in her adult form, glomping onto Ulquiorra's arm as they left for the second division in a burst of sonido.

As always, the fourth Espada bore everything with incredible patience. That was one relationship Ichigo did _not _understand. And he doubted he ever would.

Beside Ichigo, Gin stirred, one hand dropping to briefly brush across Shinsou. He turned towards the teenager, expression unreadable. He hadn't asked Ichigo not to take part in the battle, and for that, Ichigo was grateful. Nothing was keeping him from this fight, though he recognized that Gin was probably worried.

The older man looked at him for several seconds before he shook his head as if to clear some uncomfortable thought. "Stay safe, _mi vida_," Gin finally said, his voice just a shade rough as he turned and headed towards the first division.

A scowl quickly replaced Ichigo's bewildered expression. "I don't speak Spanish, bastard!" he called after his lover. "What does that mean?"

Nearby, Stark snorted from his spot by Halibel, who'd also yet to leave. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet?" he questioned, and when Ichigo just turned to stare at him, he had to bite back a chuckle. "It means he loves you, _amigo_."

Ichigo blinked, and then, a red infusion took over his cheeks. He shifted his gaze to his lover's departing form, thoughtful, and could only nod. He felt the same.

Behind him, Stark chuckled again and leaned in, placing a kiss on Halibel's cheek. "Later then, _querida_," he murmured and then promptly disappeared.

Halibel watched Ichigo for a moment more with a knowing gaze. And then, she too vanished. Leaving Ichigo alone on the hilltop.

"Ready, old man?" he asked, reaching up to curl his fingers around Zangetsu. He didn't bother speaking inwardly. There was no one around to hear.

'_As always, Ichigo_,' the zanpakutou replied, a touch of amusement to his tone.

And in the background, Shirosaki cackled his readiness as well, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Bloodthirsty bastard.

Smirking to himself, Ichigo turned towards the direction he anticipated the ninth division to be. That was his target, after all. There were others going after the fourth, sixth, seventh, eighth, tenth, twelfth and thirteenth. And as for Aizen and Urahara… well, they were otherwise occupied. This invasion was nothing more than a large and elaborate distraction.

Soul Society would lose the war before they even knew they were fighting the final battle within it.

'_King! Behind you!' _

Shirosaki's warning was obeyed instantly, Ichigo not even thinking to question the Hollow's instincts. Especially when the verbal warning came with a sense of trepidation creeping up his spine. Ichigo whirled, drawing Zangetsu in the same instant and catching the full force of a kidoh attack on the flat of the blade. It sent him rocking back several paces, the flare of brightness nearly blinding, but he dug his heels into the dirt and held his ground.

He felt the jarring strength of the spell rattle along the blade, and as the initial flash faded, he caught sight of several opponents approaching. None of whom he recognized. The uniform they were wearing, however, he did. Aizen had shown him pictures. The Kidoushuu, Soul Society's powerful unit focused on kidoh. The one Tessai had originally been head of, and Ichigo just knew that it was no coincidence that they sought him out.

As Gin and Urahara-san had explained, everyone knew how weak he was to kidoh. Well, they were about to find out just how faulty their intel was.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," a woman intoned, stepping to the forefront of her little collection of subordinates; he could only assume that she was the head. "As head of the Kidoushuu, I, Kasumioji Leiko, will destroy you before you can cause more damage to Seireitei."

Ichigo smirked as he slowly lowered his blade, looking over Zangetsu's edge at the enemy, and his reiatsu gathered around him. "Glad to see that Soul Society is as honorable as ever," he retorted, and without waiting for her to attack, he sprang forward in a flit of shunpo.

In front of him, the woman narrowed her eyes and gestured to the half-dozen or so subordinates behind her. One who was possibly her second-in-charge split to the side, moving quickly as he lifted his hands. His deep voice filled the air, summoning a high-level kidoh. Ichigo recognized the incantation – one of Urahara's favorites in fact – and quickly threw himself to the side. The spell narrowly missed him, a sharp jolt of energy that ripped through the ground and sent huge shards of rocks at his body.

Growling low in his throat, Ichigo whipped Zangetsu in front of him. "_Getsuga tenshou_," he called out and returned his own ripple of black and red at three standing in a cluster.

As the attack streaked through the air, he twisted to avoid a spray of flame-tipped daggers and thrust out his own hand. He summoned the most powerful _byakurai _he could think of and sent it flying towards a lone Kidoushuu member. Blue lightning rippled through the air, a larger streak than he had ever called, crackling against a hastily summoned barrier.

He felt their surprise an instant before he collided with Kasumioji, Zangetsu slamming against her shield. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"How...?" the woman gaped, clearly at a loss for words as his zanpakutou grated against her barrier with a crackling of reiatsu upon reiatsu; her shield rippled. "They said you don't know kidoh!"

"They?" he mocked, his laughter taking a Hollow echo. "They know what they want to know and nothing else." His reiatsu flared around him, a bright mix of blue edged with black-red.

Ichigo pressed forward and watched as she crumbled beneath the force of his strength. His fingers twitched around Zangetsu's hilt, about to crack through her barrier, when suddenly his every sense shot to a red alert. And Shirosaki slammed a warning through his skull, loud enough to ache.

Cursing under his breath, Ichigo suddenly leapt back, barely missing the kusarigama-like weapon that abruptly sheared where his head had just been. The two wickedly curved blades were connected to a long end as Ichigo hit the ground, waraji skidding to a stop and sending billows of dust in the air. His gaze whipped in the direction of the retreating chain.

Hisagi Shuuhei, vice-captain of the ninth division stood there, backed by several of his men. His jaw was squared, expression grim as he twined what had to have been his zanpakutou around his hands.

The ninth division hadn't waited for him to attack. They had come to him. Just fucking _great_. Like he needed two opponents at once.

He was reminded of the Kidoushuu then, still scattered around him. And the ninth division unseated, now beginning to spread into the area as Shuuhei stalked across the ground, an oncoming threat.

Ichigo knew he could have defeated any one of these opponents with great ease singularly. At the same time… well, that was tricky. He hadn't wanted to resort to this so early, but he was left with little other choice.

And where the hell was Grimmjow? He was supposed to have taken out the Kidoushuu!

Gritting his teeth and cursing under his breath, Ichigo folded both hands around Zangetsu's hilt, Shirosaki laughing eagerly within him. The flash of his reiatsu might as well have been an announcement to the whole of Seireitei, the breadth of his power flexing out around him.

"_Bankai!_"

---------

He felt it when Ichigo's reiatsu shot sky-high, a sure sign that the annoying kid was heading straight for bankai. Unfortunately, Grimmjow knew that sensation all too well. A cat-like growl echoing in his breath, he skidded to a halt atop one of the buildings, cracking shingles and sending them clacking to the ground below him.

Whirling, he expanded his senses in the direction he had felt Ichigo's reiatsu surge. In the distance, he could make out several forms standing atop the Soukyoku Hill. Only one of them was Ichigo and the rest were in varied uniforms. The familiar shihakushou of the Shinigami and then another similar outfit, accompanied by white masks. An uniform that Grimmjow unfortunately recognized because Aizen had shown him pictures.

"The fuck?" he cursed aloud, digging in his heels as he sprinted over to the next roof, completely back-tracking. "What're the Kidoushuu doin' over there?"

A burst of sonido sent him to another building, more curses spilling from his lips. Sure Kurosaki was pretty damn powerful. But even he could be outnumbered. And it looked like was facing off against too many foes for him to handle.

A feral grin split Grimmjow's face as he pictured the look that Ichigo would have when he realized that the sixth Espada had come to rescue him. It would be a great sting to his pride, and he didn't doubt that the brat would fuss about it.

More shingles shattered as they fell to the ground, Grimmjow racing across the rooftops back towards the hill. Damn Kidoushuu would never know what--

His foot stumbled beneath him, ankle twisting, and Grimmjow tumbled off the rooftop and slammed painfully to the ground. Every bone seemed to snap as he abruptly coughed up blood, mind spinning crazily. And then, the pain hit. Excruciating, making every nerve in his body cringe.

What… the hell? Had something hit him?

Warmth spilled from his body, seeping from his back and pooling on the ground beneath him. Shaky fingers reached down, touching the substance, and he brought it to his failing vision. Blood? He was injured?

The sound of footsteps on pavement as his body twitched, growing cold with terrifying speed. He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't even _move_, and it took every effort to twist his head to the side. Blurry vision faded in and out, trying to focus on the approaching form.

Grimmjow groaned, hand flopping messily back to the street as the thick smell of copper filled his senses. He felt as if he were on fire, skin melting against an incredible heat. Body collapsing against a pressure of reiatsu that was so strong he couldn't tell if it was less or equal to Aizen's. He could literally hear his bones creaking, snapping in his chest and pushing in on his lungs. Breathing was no longer an option.

There was a clack, like wood over stone, and the sense of something old and powerful. His neck wobbled as he caught sight of an impossibly long beard, deeply inset eyes, and a bald head. The old man stood over him, gnarled fingers wrapped around a thick wooden staff. His eyes held nothing, not even a flash of grief.

And then, Grimmjow knew nothing at all.

--------

"_Ikorose_, Shinsou," Gin hissed, fingers clenched tightly around his zanpakutou. He glared down at the old man beneath him, lips pressed firmly together as his blade expanded and ripped through the air.

Yamamoto looked up at him for all of a second before his reiatsu flared, and he was surrounded by intense heat, disappearing in a quick but not as fast as Gin flit of shunpo. Shinsou barely missed, screaming past where he had stood a millisecond too late. Which was fine by Gin as he hadn't wanted to truly injure the old bastard immediately. He just wanted Yama-jii to know he was there.

As the captain-commander materialized on the rooftop across from him, Gin retracted Shinsou and sent out a small tendril of reiatsu, feeling for Grimmjow. He felt nothing, however, not a single stirring of life. The bastard had killed him, slaughtered him without a moment's thought most likely.

"Ichimaru Gin," Yamamoto's growling voice crossed the distance, his gaze unyielding as he clasped both hands over the head of his staff. Shoulders were firm and set in their ways. "This is the second time you have returned since you betrayed us. What are your intentions?"

He was barely able to repress his snarl, a righteous anger stirring within him. "Coward," he accused on the edge of a growl. "Grimmjow was nothin' even close ta yer level. Where's the honor in tha'?"

"Honor?" Yamamoto arched one aged brow, reiatsu rippling around him like the flames of a fire. "Traitors know no honor."

Gin's fingers tightened around Shinsou's hilt so strongly that his knuckles were white. On the edge of his senses, he knew that Ichigo was in bankai already, and that worried him. He could tell that the ninth division was facing his lover, as were the Kidoushuu. It sent a treble of concern through him, but there was nothing he could do.

Ichigo would never forgive him if he let the old bastard get away with killing Grimmjow like that. In an instant. The sixth Espada hadn't even been able to go down fighting. Simply ripped apart before he even knew what was happening.

"What are you doing in my world?" Yamamoto continued, gaze completely unrepentant.

Straightening, Gin's eyes slitted open and began to glow a faint blue behind his lids where there had once been amber-red. "I'm takin' it back," he replied, his own reiatsu rising in counter to the old man.

"Do you realize what you are doing?" the bastard demanded, voice an obvious chastisement.

"Do _you_?" Gin countered, a wind beginning to build around them, whipping at their clothing. Their reiatsu was becoming a stifling presence, no doubt uncomfortable to any other Shinigami nearby. "Yer more than senile, old man, if ya think ya and everyone here ain't corrupted. Yer blind, too."

Yamamoto's fingers twitched around his staff-disguised zanpakutou. "A child cannot be expected to understand. Everything is for the benefit of the balance. Without it, the whole world would crumble."

"Ya call plots ta kill Ichigo beneficial?" Gin snarled, body shaking from the force of his anger. "And Hime-chan? And any others that were just fodder fer ya?"

The old bastard inclined his head. "Sacrifices must occasionally be made. For the good and safety of everyone. Those who would be a threat must be destroyed."

The white-hot rage nearly blinded Gin, and were it not for Aizen-taichou's words lingering in the back of his mind, he might have acted on them. But he couldn't attack Yamamoto in a blind frenzy and expect to survive. No, he had to keep his wits about him.

"He fought fer ya, stupid geezer. And ya wanted ta kill him. Tell me who's really the traitor! The real monster!" His Hollow stirred inside of him, hissing in agreement.

At the time, Ichigo's plight had merely been a tool to gather him to their cause. Now, it infuriated Gin. The thought of possibly losing Ichigo before he could have ever had him sent his blood boiling. All because that senile old fool thought it was best. It literally made him sick to his stomach, and he wondered how he could have ever been a part of this farce of justice.

Yamamoto was undeterred. "Your accusations hold no fear for me. Aizen Sousuke is a fool, and you are even more for following him. We will _crush_ you without a doubt, Ichimaru."

Any retort Gin had planned faded as footsteps approached their position. Undaunted by the rising reiatsu that was spreading a thin layer of pressure over the surrounding area. Both men heard the noise and shifted their gazes, finding Ukitake Jyuushiro on approach. The look on his face was contemplative, though there was an almost angry set to his forehead.

"Are they true?" he demanded, his eyes on only the captain-commander and no one else. "Every rumor that I've heard about your plans for those children?"

Yamamoto shifted and for the first time showed a sense of unease. Gin, in the background, could only smirk triumphantly. Yoruichi had been right; Ukitake _was_ questioning. And it appeared he was no longer able to blindly believe.

"Everything has been done for the better of Soul Society," the old bastard evaded the question with a skill borne out of centuries of political maneuvering.

Gin watched as Ukitake hesitated, working his jaw for several long moments. A sense of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, like thick pollution.

"Sensei, you... you can't possibly mean that." Ukitake's voice was soft but firm. "What about justice?"

The ex-captain snorted, a grin stretching his lips. "The old bastard has his own sense of it. Just like 'is superiors."

His comment, however, was ignored by Ukitake, who focused his attention on the captain-commander with narrowed eyes. "How long have we been in the business of murdering children?" he demanded, wind whipping his long hair around his face.

Yamamoto's silence was very incriminating. He was obviously searching for the right answer without having to resort to a lie. And it was clear he was torn, hating to face such questions from someone he considered like a son to him. Someone he had never thought would doubt his reasoning.

"Doncha know?" Gin inserted, unable to help his triumphant smirk. "From the very beginnin'."

It was becoming clear that Ukitake was starting to waver, his belief in his sensei cracking under the weight of an obvious, abominable truth. And the expression on his face wiped away any doubts Gin held.

"I…" The white-haired man shook his head, shoulders squaring. "Is that what happened to Hirako Shinji? And Muguruma Kensei? Shigure Sohma?" His hands tightened into fists. "What about Isshin? Was your son included, too? Did you order _his_ execution?"

"That is preposterous!" Yamamoto immediately denied, rough voice spilling into the air with a vehement edge. "The fate of those captains was determined by Chamber 46. I had nothing to do with their decision."

Brown eyes darkened as Ukitake tipped his head to the side, expression disbelieving. "As the most powerful man in Soul Society, you couldn't protest? You couldn't refuse? They could not have _forced _you. They can't force _you_ to do anything. That's impossible!"

He was angry now, reiatsu rising and filling the air with the scent of an oncoming storm and crackling thunder. It joined with Gin's in a whirlwind of fury, and Yama-jii's own rose around him in defense. The buildings were cracking under the pressure, and the ground rumbled ominously.

Aged fingers curled tightly around his zanpakutou, outlining every wrinkle and fold. "There are situations, Jyuushiro, that cannot be simply explained. That are beyond your understanding."

"That's not an answer!" Ukitake gritted out fiercely, tone sharp and accusing. His power spiked, eyes flashing like a brief flare of lightning on a dark horizon.

Gin chuckled darkly, half-amused by the scene playing out before him. "It's the only one ya'll ever get." He shifted his gaze to Yamamoto and smirked triumphantly at the old bastard. "The truth 'urts, and ya can't bear ta reveal it."

Ukitake's gaze flickered between Gin and Yamamoto, hands still clenched into fists at his side. "Sensei, please tell me it's not true." His eyes were almost pleading.

The old man's silence was all too telling, his fierce grip on his zanpakutou self-explanatory. And Ukitake faltered. He swallowed thickly.

Gin forced his smirk to slide from his lips at the sight of his one-time friend's distress, letting his moment of triumph vanish. "Ya know that he can't, Jyuu-chan. The old bastard's at least not a liar."

'_Only a murderer and fraud_,' his Hollow silently added.

The sharp burn of Yamamoto's reiatsu flared high. "Enough of this," the captain-commander declared, a fire burning in his eyes. "We will speak of this later, Ukitake-taichou. For now, there is an invasion to deal with. Starting with _this _one."

Twisting his attention towards the old man, Gin fingered Shinsou once more. He had lowered his zanpakutou as the conversation began, but the threat level had obviously been raised. There was no more time for chitchat.

Ukitake, whose gaze had fallen to the ground at the last revelation, slowly lifted his head. A sigh escaped him as he reached for his own zanpakutou, carefully drawing the blade. And inwardly, Gin wondered if his words had reached Ukitake at all. If he would have to fight both at the same time. He was therefore surprised when Ukitake's next words addressed him, though his eyes were for the captain-commander alone.

"Ichimaru-kun… Gin, will you tell Sousuke that I'm sorry for ever doubting him?" he asked with a skillful draw of Sougyo no Kotowari. "He was the best third-seat I ever had. Would've been my lieutenant if I'd had my way."

Gin watched as Yamamoto stiffened, understanding in his age-lined face. "I think he'd rather hear it from ya," the Vizard retorted, a sense of victory rising up within him.

The old man's gaze hardened for his former student alone. "If this is the path you have chosen," he began gruffly, but there was an edge of regret and a sense of loss in his tone. He slowly drew up his staff, power surging around him. "Then, so be it."

---------

She had never realized just how bad Seireitei was for self-defense. Crouching within the leaves of a tall tree, well-concealed, Yoruichi couldn't help but it rather pathetic. It had been ridiculously easy to find this particular post within the eighth division, and honestly, she could be hidden indefinitely. How incredibly ironic.

On the edge of her awareness, she suddenly felt the captain-commander's reiatsu as it nearly split the sky in a grotesque display of power. Immediately following, she detected Ichimaru and Ukitake both doing the same, their combined reiatsu so stifling that surely anyone in the general area would find it difficult to breathe. She shook her head.

"Either things have just gotten really bad or really good," she murmured to herself and focused her attention through the leaves. She had a mission here, after all. There was no time to get distracted.

As if on cue, she watched as two forms emerged from an open doorway just within her line of sight. The familiar individuals were discussing something in low but obviously heated tones. Their steps were quick and hurried, and fellow division members were scattered around the courtyard, hurrying to do their duties.

Kyouraku Shunsui was in the midst of sliding his zanpakutou into his obi but in an obvious state of mid-dress. He must have just rolled out of the bed, having heard the warning clanks echoing through the city. Missing the infamous pink haori and straw hat, he was only recognizable by his familiar blue sash. Beside him, Ise Nanao looked perfectly poised as always, one hand reaching up to adjust her glasses. Her other hand clutched a thick, heavy book.

Yoruichi couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but they made it easier as their voices began to rise in volume. Clearly, all was not well between the two. And it wasn't their usual disagreement where Shunsui flirted and Nanao rebuffed him. No, this was more serious. Each word was becoming clearer and clearer. And then, Kyouraku abruptly ceased walking as he whirled on his vice-captain.

"You know it's the right thing to do!" he declared loudly, words audible for all to hear. Especially for the onlooking Yoruichi.

Intrigued, she listened and watched as everyone in the courtyard paused in the midst of their preparations. Members of the eighth division focused on their leaders, mouths agape and body language filled with confusion.

Ise stood her ground in the face of her captain's statement. "But they are traitors, sir," she responded ever-so-politely.

"And we've become little more than murderers and petty thieves," he hissed, scraping fingers through his bearded chin. "You might not know anything different, but I remember when it was."

The vice-captain reached up and adjusted her glasses again. "We kill to preserve. They do it for power," she justified, sounding perfectly sure of herself. There wasn't an inch of hesitation in her tone or uncertainty. Not like Kyouraku, who was obviously wavering.

Rather than taking this moment to strike, Yoruichi let her curiosity guide her. She held back on the anger she felt for having received the false information and continued to watch. Someone was going to pay for nearly killing Ichigo and Kisuke. And if it were one or both, she was fine with either.

"Preserve what?" Kyouraku demanded, the discussion taking precedence over wherever his initial destination had been. "A broken world? We're dying, Nanao. You might not realize it, but we are. A hundred years from now, Hueco Mundo and the living world will be all that's left."

"That's absurd," Ise spat, incredulous.

Yoruichi lifted her brow. What was truly going on within the eighth division? A rift was definitely between the two leaders, and it grew wider by the moment. They disagreed on… well, something. And she could only believe that it had to do with the battle at hand.

"Is it?" Shunsui gestured wildly with one arm. "When's the last time you went into Rukongai and looked around? And when's the last time those corrupt bastards in Chamber 46 even gave a damn? Because it sure as hell didn't look like that when I was a kid. There weren't people dying in the streets. And you didn't have to watch your back for fear someone would stick a knife in it."

Ise straightened, lips pulling into a disapproving frown. "And anarchy is better? _That man_ will kill us all without thinking twice about it."

"I think I know my nephew a bit better than that," Kyouraku retorted, a strange smile on his lips.

The vice-captain blinked and took an unconscious step backwards. "Your _nephew_?" she repeated.

"Where else would he get his charming good looks?" Kyouraku waved another vague hand. "Takes after my sister through and through."

Very obviously stunned, Ise was momentarily speechless. Yoruichi lifted a brow. Obviously, Kyouraku hadn't told very many people of that interesting little tidbit. She had known of course, which had been the reason she had chosen to trust Kyouraku's information in the first place.

She watched as Ise lifted a disbelieving finger, pointing at her captain accusingly. "You... you've been in on this from the beginning?" she declared incredulously. "You've been planning to sell us out all along!"

Kyouraku abruptly dropped his teasing, eyes narrowing as he grew serious. "He might be my nephew, but that doesn't mean I agree with him in everything." He drew up straight and adjusted the folds of his shihakushou. "But it also doesn't mean he isn't right. Besides, my sister would kill me if I let anything happen to him."

Which was strange because Yoruichi could have sworn that his sister had passed away several centuries back.

"Then you're just going to turn your back on everything? On us? On your loyal division?" Ise's face twisted into a mixture of betrayal and anger, her glasses glinting oddly in the brightness of the sun. "On Ukitake-taichou? Aizen might be your nephew, but what about your brother?"

His gaze looked beyond her, as if focused on some far horizon, perhaps sensing the discord and revelation in Ukitake's reiatsu. "I have no doubt that Jyuu-chan understands everything like I do." His lips quirked into a thin smile. "Sousuke's always been his favorite. And I'm not about to start killing my own subordinates."

With that, Kyouraku turned and swept his gaze over his subordinates, including those that had been watching their leaders without coming to their own conclusions. Most were just waiting for their next orders.

"You're all free to do as you want," he declared, addressing them collectively. "But personally, I recommend sitting this one out."

"And what are you going to do, _sir_?" Ise demanded, fingers tightening around the weight of her usual baggage, that huge tome.

She should have seen the answer in his eyes, which were more than determined. They were prepared.

"I'm going to do the right thing," her captain replied, leaning towards her and lowering his tone significantly; it was still clear enough for Yoruichi to hear, however. "Because he's my nephew and they're my friends."

Ise's eyes twitched, widening for a fraction of a second as Kyouraku drew back, his shoulders set. He turned away from her, discussion ended, and Yoruichi almost missed what happened next. Ise's back had obscured most of her motions, but she could plainly see the vice-captain take a step forward.

Kyouraku half-smiled, as though he had already won some small battle. "Coming alo--"

His words died on a choke as he abruptly lurched forward, and Yoruichi rose in her surprise, rustling the branches of her tree. Kyouraku dropped to his knees, legs crumpling beneath him as though they were made of jelly. Then, Yoruichi noticed Ise drop her arm to her side, fingers clutched around the hilt of her zanpakutou. Little more than a tanto really, the short blade dripping blood to the ground.

Brown eyes filled with pain tried to focus on his much beloved vice-captain. "Nanao?" he called in complete disbelief, a shudder rocking through his body as blood seeped from his body in an ever-widening puddle.

Yoruichi felt frozen with her surprise and watched blankly as the third-seat, Enjouji Tatsufusa, stepped forward. He obviously intended to help his captain, glare accusing as he looked at Ise. But before he could even crouch, a kidoh was flying his direction, and he was forced dive away else he risked being scorched to mere cinders. The fire spell flew past and slammed into the wall of one of the buildings as other Shinigami scrambled to avoid it.

"You heard him," Ise announced icily, her tone absolute. "He was going to betray us all." Her face twisted with intention as she lifted her zanpakutou again, preparing for the final strike.

The Shihouin heir had enough of being the impartial witness. She moved quickly enough to give proof to her nickname, and within a half-second, Yoruichi placed herself between Ise and Kyouraku before the vice-captain could complete the attack.

"Now, now, Nanao-chan," she reprimanded, a smile on her face but anger in her eyes. "Attacking a superior officer? That's an executionable offense."

Ise didn't seem too surprised by her abrupt appearance, dropping back into a defensive stance without making it obvious. "He's no longer an officer."

"But he is superior," Yoruichi countered as her hand clenched into a fist.

And behind her, she could sense Enjouji moving back to his captain's side, Shunsui's pained gasps loud in the still silence. Ise had struck him in the lower back, and the blow must have severed his spinal cord, judging from the way he had simply crumbled. Who knew what else she had damaged?

Golden eyes watched the vice-captain. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Do you honestly think that he was smart enough for something like that?" Ise retorted, making no pains to hide her involvement. "It didn't take much to figure out he was helping you. I just used that to my advantage."

Yoruichi felt her hands clench into fists, reiatsu vibrating from the force of her cold fury. "Ki-chan and Ichigo almost died because of you," she hissed, eyes flashing. And yet, Ise seemed unperturbed in the face of the obvious threat. "You should just be glad it's me here and not Gin. I, at least, promise to make it quick."

--------

_Clang!_

The sound was that of blades meeting, grinding together in obvious dissonance. Both opponents were already breathing hard, faces flushed and bodies covered in sweat behind their weapons. Wounds were many and superficial, blood seeping and clothes ripped and torn.

No one bore witness to this fight, as they had long ago battled away from the tenth division. Which strangely enough was currently under attack by the eleventh division, who had suddenly gone wild on all of Seireitei. And the captain-commander was too busy with his own battle to rein them in.

"_Unare_," Matsumoto Rangiku hissed, her blade bore heavily to the ground by several strikes by Izuru's zanpakutou.

In an instant, Haineko dissolved into ash, and her smile was triumphant. However, it quickly faded when her zanpakutou floated for all of a millisecond before abruptly crashing to the ground. Too heavy for the air to bear. Light, almost silvery eyes looked up in shock.

Izuru simply watched her. "You didn't think that trick would work twice, did you?" he asked tonelessly. "I haven't exactly been idle in my absence."

The busty woman cursed at him and sucked in a tired breath. Her normally bright and vibrant eyes were dull, lacking their cheerful sparkle. And her hair hung in ragged clumps around her face, missing the usual spunky curl and bounce. In short, Matsumoto looked terrible, no doubt the loss of her captain weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Funny how Izuru couldn't find a whit of remorse within him, though he did feel some sympathy for the woman. He hadn't set out initially to harm her.

"You don't need to keep doing this," he said as she circled around him, her anger the only sign of life.

The fact that she nearly resembled Hinamori Momo after Aizen's departure was somewhat disheartening.

"And you just need to die," Matsumoto snarled, and her face wrenched into something ugly and hateful. Shoulders heaving, she pushed a hand his direction, shoving several kidoh at him.

Izuru easily slipped aside to avoid the first and hastily brought up Wabisuke, the flat of his zanpakutou batting away the second. Matsumoto was clearly out for his blood, and he wondered if there was any way to put an end to this without ending in the death of either of them.

He took a breath, firming his grip. "Please be reasonable," Izuru requested able to feel the discord in her reiatsu.

"Reasonable?" she repeated, voice nearing a shrill shriek. "Tell that to taichou."

Izuru's own patience was running thin. "The little bastard deserved it, and you know it," he spat before he could entirely contain himself.

She snorted. "Yeah, right. For what?" Matsumoto scoffed degradingly. "Because he picked on you?"

While that might have had a part of his anger, it wasn't Izuru's sole reason. No, his anger with Hitsugaya-taichou started before the taunting and accusations became too painful.

"He was going to kill a girl, a _child_," Izuru reminded her, wondering if she had forgotten that little fact or if the old man hadn't bothered to inform her of the reason behind the message. The latter was most likely.

"Liar!" And Matsumoto sprinted forward, slipping into hakudo aiming a kick at his side that he shifted into shunpo to avoid. She moved fast for someone with such a weight on her chest. "Did Gin tell you that?"

He blocked the next attack with Wabisuke, her kick rattling against the blade. "He didn't need to. Someone else beat him to it."

Someone by the name of Yamada Hanatarou. The tiny seventh-seat had come to him with the information because Hanatarou hadn't known what to do with it. And he had thought that out of everyone in the Gotei-13, Kira would understand. After all, Izuru was everybody's whipping boy at the moment. Not to mention Hanatarou would have needed the help of a vice-captain or higher to open the Seikaimon.

After assisting the gentle-mannered healer, Izuru had heard that Ichigo-kun and the others had vanished. Hanatarou had never returned. He had initially believed that they had been too late to warn the humans and that Hanatarou had fallen as collateral damage. Until Ichigo-kun and Ichimaru-taichou had appeared in his quarters several months later, and even then, he had thought he was merely dreaming.

"What made you believe them?" Matsumoto demanded, angry words breaking through his recollection as he dodged a harsh punch and swung out to drive her back several paces. "What made you _torture_ him?"

Izuru fully intended to answer, but before he could even speak a word, she threw herself at him again. Madness dictating her actions now with little regard to her own safety. She had discarded her useless zanpakutou, reverting to the other arts in her desire to do him damage.

"You just did it because you wanted to, bastard," she accused furiously, her kick shattering a wall behind him as he stepped out of the way. "You were just looking for an excuse!"

His patience, already stretched thin, vanished. "Like I needed one!"

Her breath was coming in sharp, staccato bursts now. Ragged. "Don't be smug, you self-righteous asshole. You tortured him to death."

Izuru looked at her and realized that he would never be able to reason with her. She could no longer hear any rational thought. He hadn't come to kill her; that wasn't his purpose here. It was just meant to be a distraction, but she wouldn't rest until his death or hers. And he had no doubt that if she succeeded, she would blindly throw herself at Ichigo-kun and possibly even Ichimaru-taichou.

His fingers curled around Wabisuke, an unfortunate resolve beginning to form. He watched her as she crouched and eyed him maliciously. Her nails scraped against the ground as though she were preparing to launch herself at him. He tried to speak, to attempt reason one more time. But she wouldn't even give him the moment to voice his words.

"Go to hell," Matsumoto snarled, her tone hoarse and final. Her lips curled into a twisted, malevolent grin. "Or how 'bout I just send you there." She sprang forward, throwing herself into battle.

And what could Izuru do but honor her wish?

* * *

a/n: Two more parts to go in this piece! And it's only going to get much more frantic and fast-paced. Don't hurt me yet! There's much more to see, and both sides will suffer before the end comes. After _Doomsday _is _At World's End_, and subsequently, the end of the fic. But! Before I head into _At World's End_, I have two more side pieces for you. I debated on giving you the side pieces or starting _Doomsday_, and figured I'd left you hanging long enough.

I hope you liked! There's plenty more to come, so don't bite your nails all the way just yet!


	32. Doomsday Part II

a/n: If possible, this one moves even faster than the prior chapter. Again, pay attention, or you'll blink and miss it. Enjoy!

**Title: Doomsday (Part II)**

**Pairings/Characters: Szayel/Ishida (onesided… perhaps), Ulquiorra/Nel, A bunch of other people**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: More violence, some slashy kissing, some hetty cuteness  
**

**Words: 5979**

**Description: The battle rages on, fiercer and fiercer with every passing moment as both sides suffer heavy losses. **

* * *

Licking his lips, Kenpachi slung his zanpakutou over his shoulder, the blade a welcome weight. He could feel the battle lust rising in the air, and the reiatsu was settling so thickly throughout Seireitei that he could feel it rattling in his bones. Stirring his blood.

It was a battle. No. War. Outright war. And he swore that it was calling to him.

Yachiru, perched on his shoulder, kicked her legs excitedly. And behind him, those who still remained at the eleventh division looked on with eager interest. Kenpachi couldn't figure out what they were waiting for.

He glanced over his shoulder, one eye gleaming. "Get 'em, guys," he ordered. "Show 'em what bein' in the eleventh division really means."

He watched as they whooped and hollered, racing off in whichever direction seemed to call to them. Yumichika was already gone, heading off towards the tenth where it seemed a fierce fight was breaking out.

Ikkaku rubbed a hand over his nose, the other dangling over Houzukimaru. "Time ta make some noise," he agreed with a grin and sprinted away. The twelfth seemed to be his destination.

"What about me, Ken-chan?" Yachiru asked with an excited giggle, her elbows digging into the meat of his back. "Who should I fight?"

"Whoever ya want, brat," he responded, already scanning the battleground for his own opponent.

In an instant, his lips split into a fanged grin. One of the Arrancar seemed to be hanging back and simply observing, not taking part in the fight. And even Kenpachi could tell that he was no slouch. The old man with the bone for a crown had reiatsu to match Byakuya-hime in his former glory at least.

"Hmm," Kenpachi murmured, fingers stroking his chin and scratching a nail under the strap to his eyepatch. "Bastard looks pretty strong. Think I'll take him."

Yachiru giggled. "Yay!" And lifted her hands in celebration, nearly tumbling from his shoulder in her exuberance.

"Oy! Find your own enemy," Kenpachi chastised with a joggle to his shoulder.

She promptly jumped down, eyes sparkling as she considered where she wanted to go. "I should help Frilly-Brows, huh?" Yachiru thought aloud.

"Go for it." Kenpachi grunted. "As for me," he said and pointed a finger at the figure in the distance, still hovering boredly in the sky. "I'm going for that one."

-------

"Behind you, Ulqui-chan!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in a childish manner, Ulquiorra placidly blocked the rather ill-timed blow and efficiently blasted off a cero with his other hand. "Keep your eye on your own opponent, Neliel," he replied and watched as his attack incinerated several people standing in a row in front of him.

Foolish Shinigami.

On the edge of his senses, always present whether he liked it or not, he could feel Neliel. She was several feet away from him but within reach of a sonido, and the two of them were surrounded by so many members of the second division that he would have had to wade through them to get to her. Had he the need.

Many of the Shinigami already lay dead and dying around them, the unconscious mostly due to Neliel's desire not to take too many lives. The large brute, the vice-captain, kept throwing himself at the fifth Espada as though believing a woman would be easier to defeat. And Ulquiorra, he found himself occasionally crossing blades with the captain herself. The damn female wouldn't stop flitting in and out of battle, trying to catch him in a weak moment.

A zanpakutou flashed in the sunlight, and Ulquiorra shifted to block the blow, mentally chastising himself for losing focus during a battle. Even for a moment. He was here to serve as distraction for Aizen-sama and nothing else. He needed to delay these Shinigami as long as possible.

Eyes narrowing faintly, Ulquiorra swung out his zanpakutou and cut through two of his opponents. They fell at his feet like cannon fodder, gasping for breath. He barely noticed, pressing forward into the masses of Shinigami. They were regarding him warily now but still foolishly brave.

It was pathetic. He wouldn't even need his resurrección at this rate. He wondered if it was even worth it to fight such trash, their reiatsu not even close enough to a threat. The only one that possibly posed a challenge was the captain herself, and still, Ulquiorra was not impressed.

His waraji slid across the stone beneath his feet as he blocked two simultaneous attacks and pushed both enemies away with a small surge of his reiatsu. They flew backwards and crashed into a building. It toppled onto them, sending up a flurry of dust and debris. But Ulquiorra hardly noticed, too busy facing his next opponent and sending out another strong cero.

Another pair of Shinigami threw themselves at him, and another approached from the rear. He whirled to avoid two of the attacks, kicking out at the third and driving him backwards with a sharp crack of foot on chest. He was satisfied by the feeling of broken bones beneath his kick and Ulquiorra twisted, zanpakutou raised to strike the next Shinigami when burning pain streaked across his left side.

He stumbled but completed his blow, managing to slice the head off of his opponent. The second division member flopped to the ground as heat seemed to spread through Ulquiorra's abdomen. He could feel blood seeping from a thin but deep wound, and almost immediately, a sense of queasiness attacked him.

Ulquiorra faltered and one of his adversaries saw that as an opportunity; he quickly learned otherwise when a cero blasted off the upper portion of his body. Grunting and keeping the others at bay with lashing tendrils of his reiatsu, the Espada gingerly prodded at his wound, wondering just who had been able to get close enough to strike him. He battled a brief bout with dizziness, and it struck him then that the blade had probably been poisoned.

The cowards.

"Ulquiorra!"

Neliel's voice pierced his senses, and he half-turned to find that she was looking worriedly his direction. She hastily cut down an enemy in her path, and he knew without even having to look again that she was probably trying to work her way towards him.

"I am fine," he called back, dropping his blood-stained fingers away from the injury and shifting to focus back on the enemy. Nearby, he could sense the captain, as though she were just waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

The fifth Espada didn't appear to believe him. "You never admit when you're hurt," he heard her grumble, even across the distance.

Ulquiorra didn't have opportunity to respond, too busy blocking a new flurry of attacks and a flash of kidoh that had been shot his direction. He avoided everything with a quick burst of sonido and nearly gasped as pain shot through his entire body. His legs threatened to turn to jelly beneath him, but Ulquiorra pushed past it, swinging his zanpakutou and driving back the pressing Shinigami. Several more fell to his blade, blood splashing the ground. And still that damn captain watched and waited.

He could feel their reiatsu around him, weak and shaky compared to Aizen-sama's but all the sudden more pressing. He wondered if it was a side-effect of the poison because his head was spinning, and he couldn't seem to think straight. Ulquiorra sensed Neliel drawing closer, but there was a strain to her reiatsu that hadn't been there. It was discordant, weak...

Eyes widening minutely, he spun his body around, scanning the press of Shinigami for Neliel.

"**Ul--**"

_Pop_!

He last saw her pale grey irises full of surprise before her body suddenly disappeared in a small puff of smoke, reverting to her child-like form. Weakened, Neliel vanished within the press of adult-sized Shinigami. He couldn't even see her anymore.

Furious, though it didn't show on his face, Ulquiorra summoned the largest cero he could muster and let it loose. Aizen-sama had impressed upon him the need to protect Neliel, after all. He needed to clear a path, and the energy blast was the best way to do so. The press of Shinigami fell back enough that he could half-stumble, half-sonido forward.

Until a body barreled into him from the side, sending his somewhat dizzy form crashing into the ground. Ulquiorra felt and heard something within him snap as his head cracked painfully against the solid stone beneath him. Mind spinning and fuzzy, he reacted without thinking and jerked a knee into his attacker. The captain's reiatsu washed over him, heavy and buzzing; it had been her.

"Filthy Arrancar," she hissed above him, dainty feminine face twisted into a furious and hateful scowl. Her hand flashed, suddenly covered in a golden spike that twinkled ominously. Even Ulquiorra could tell that it was her zanpakutou.

It was becoming harder to breathe. Even so, Ulquiorra continued to struggle. He shoved an elbow towards her chest, trying to twist his body beneath the woman's weight. She drew back to avoid the blow, hand driving down and slamming into his shoulder. The zanpakutou pierced through his flesh, and he bit back a groan, pain spiking through him. The touch of the blade burned as though it were coated in fire, searing his flesh and sinew.

His hand was empty, and Ulquiorra wondered when he had dropped his own zanpakutou. He couldn't remember the last time he had held it. His fingers were even numbing, and he knew that reality had dimmed. He couldn't see anything but Shinigami black and feet and the face of the captain above him, filled with hatred. The poison was making it impossible to focus under the weight of so much combined reiatsu.

Where was Neliel?

Fingers wrapped around his throat, slamming his head down into the pavement. Stars danced in his vision, swirling in front of the blue sky. He batted at the captain ineffectually, body not wanting to obey his commands. It was like something was burning him from the inside out, a fire spreading through every nerve. Turning it to dust and making motion impossible.

Fighting away black spots, Ulquiorra stared into unrelenting, grey eyes. She slammed his head into the ground once more and lifted her free hand again, the one holding her zanpakutou. She spat something else at him, but Ulquiorra's ears were ringing. He didn't know what she had said.

Blackness encroached for a moment, and when he peeled his eyes open again, he could just barely make out a head of pale green hair amidst the black-clad legs. He saw the brightness of blood, crimson and stark against the ground. So much blood. He had failed her and Aizen-sama both.

The darkness was coming again, following the burning pain. He hardly registered the fingers around his throat anymore, pressing and squeezing. Or the pain of the poison as it attacked his body and crushed his lungs. Turned his blood to ash.

He felt the bite of the stinger one last time.

'_Forgive me__._'

But Ulquiorra wasn't entirely sure who he meant the apology for.

-----

"_Ban_-- Urk!"

Halibel watched as the large fox-creature crumpled, causing the ground to rattle as it met his weight. The seventh division captain hadn't even had time to summon his bankai before she had knocked him unconscious. Which was likely a good thing. Tousen-sama would have been displeased if she had killed him, so Halibel had acted accordingly. The fox-creature would awaken eventually, none the worse for wear except perhaps for a rather pulsing headache.

Turning, the second Espada noticed the vice-captain of the seventh – the man with the sunglasses – was still gaping at her. In fact, he hadn't stopped from the moment she had arrived in the seventh division. His glasses were askew on his face, fingers slack around his zanpakutou as he stared. And stared.

Sighing to herself and remarking internally that Stark would have found this incredibly amusing, Halibel utilized a quick burst of sonido. She moved so quickly that her body left an afterimage behind, one that still captivated the man.

He never even saw the attack coming. Probably didn't even recognize that her reiatsu had shifted until it was too late. Raising the hilt of her zanpakutou, she struck him across the back of his head. Hard enough to incapacitate but not to kill. Aizen-sama hadn't wanted mass murder, after all. Just a distraction. And his new world couldn't be whole if all the Shinigami were wiped out. This much he had stressed.

Halibel watched impassively as the man crumpled, his zanpakutou clattering to the ground. And with the two leaders of the seventh out of commission, it seemed the rest didn't want to test their skills. Not that she needed to disable them as well. With barely a passing glance, Halibel resheathed her zanpakutou and leapt to the roof to get her bearings.

Expanding her senses, her eyes narrowed against a whipping wind, she felt out the position of her comrades. Stark's reiatsu was strong and robust, battle-ready but fine. Though he did seem a bit... _perturbed_ for lack of a better word. Ichigo was fighting, having already shifted into bankai it seemed, and was slightly stressed. But she could also see that Stark was approaching the boy's direction. He would be fine then.

And what was this?

Halibel furrowed her brow, concentrating. He shouldn't be here, and yet, Szayel was near the Quincy. She shouldn't have been surprised. The eighth Espada's obsession – in polite terms – with the new arrival to Hueco Mundo was a subject of much jibing within Las Noches.

The wind, stronger here on the rooftop, whipped across her face and sent her hair fluttering; Halibel shifted position so her eyes weren't being battered. Her concentration shifted, expanding her senses further until she could detect Ichimaru-sama. He was fighting two unfamiliar people, one incredibly strong and the other not so far behind.

Nearest to him, Neliel and Ulquiorra were taking down the second division. But as her brow furrowed to pin them down, she felt their reiatsu waver. Felt the sudden dissonance in Neliel that usually signified an immediate transformation. And then, their combined power abruptly dropped to nothing. She could feel only the vaguest sense of their presence, and even that was dwindling down to nothing.

Rising to her feet, Halibel's eyes narrowed, her destination chosen. She could be there in a few flits of sonido. Glancing over her shoulder and making sure that her two opponents were still unconscious, Halibel started for the second.

Tiles crumbled and fell from roofs wherever she landed briefly before shifting into sonido once more. All around her, she could sense the battle strengthening. More reiatsu pressing down on the whole of Seireitei. Dust from destroyed buildings was an ever increasing cloud. And she wondered how much longer it would take for Aizen-sama to activate the key.

Halibel leapt from one building to the next, and then, she felt it. A surge of wild and angry reiatsu, strong like a captain, barreling directly towards her at an unanticipated speed. She didn't even have time to look in that direction before a body crashed into hers, slim arms wrapping around her waist in the middle of a sonido and sending the both of them out of the air. They crashed to the ground almost immediately, slamming painfully against the earth.

There was a brief moment of struggle where Halibel's head spun, and they slid across the pavement. She smelled blood and didn't think it was her own. No, this copper-scent was splattered across her opponent. And when she finally managed to extricate herself from her attacker, she recognized the captain of the second. Her presence in front of Halibel could only mean one thing. That Ulquiorra and Neliel's fallen reiatsu meant more than just exhaustion.

Halibel's eyes narrowed as she reached for her zanpakutou, watching the captain before her draw a battle stance. The two of them didn't speak to each other, the threat obvious enough. And then, the second Espada sprang forward and met the female captain mid-leap.

-----

He had never had a stronger sense of déjà vu than he did in this very moment, Ishida remarked to himself. He was bleeding and gasping for breath, fingers tired and aching from drawing so many arrows. The poison wasn't making things any easier at all. He was trapped between Kurotsuchi and Nemu, the former having already summoned his bankai. And again, Ishida Uryuu wondered why he thought this would be a good idea.

Squaring his shoulders and peering at the captain, Ishida never lost his focus on Ginrei Koujaku. But he also wasn't certain how much longer he could remain standing. On the edge of his conscious, Nemu's location was a constant spark on his senses. She was the most likely to strike without notice.

Kurotsuchi cackled madly and lifted one pale hand into the air. "It's been a while since I have had a live Quincy," he taunted, crooking his long-nailed finger. "And you seem so much more powerful since the last one. Who knows what other traits Aizen has given you?"

The Quincy felt his blood run cold at the reminder of his grandfather and the picture that Kurotsuchi had given of him. His eyes narrowed as he abruptly darted to the side, avoiding another gout of poisonous gas. His senses screamed, and he whipped around, firing a stream of arrows at Nemu approaching from the side. Placidly, the vice-captain leapt out of the way, though she didn't entirely escape. An arrow clipped her arm and sliced deeply into the flesh.

"And the girl?" Kurotsuchi continued, bankai stirring restlessly beside him, legs crunching the evidence of the destruction. "Has she considered my generous offer?"

Uryuu snarled, skidding to a stop atop a half-toppled wall. "You disgust me, Shinigami." He sneered.

Even that pink-haired freak was desirable compared to this particular mad scientist. He just wanted Kurotsuchi to die and in a hopefully painful manner. Just like the bastard had done to his grandfather and all the others placed within his jurisdiction.

The captain's bankai roared, sounding like an overgrown, twittering insect. "The opinion of a mere boy matters nothing to me," Kurotsuchi dismissed loftily. "Nemu, restrain him."

"Yes, Mayuri-sama," Nemu replied tonelessly, darting towards Ishida and leaping into the air. One leg drew close to her body, the other aiming a high kick at his head.

Sucking in a breath, Ishida twisted out of the way, trying to whirl and draw Ginrei Koujaku in the same movement. Nemu, however, was fast. She landed on one foot, shifted her weight, and immediately attacked again. He had no time to draw the bow or aim it, and Ishida danced backwards, avoiding every quickly executed kick.

Annoyed, the Quincy let Ginrei Koujaku fall and reached for something he had _acquired_ from his father's storage. Seele Schneider leapt into his hands, and though he thought it distasteful to use the item as a sword, arrows were useless in close combat. Nemu's blade whistled by his head then, Ishida ducking backwards to avoid it. He swung Seele Schneider upwards, the arrow clanging against her zanpakutou and shoving it to the side.

No surprise echoed in the female's face as she quickly adjusted her balanced, spinning into the blow and striking out at him. Her elbow slammed into his shoulder, driving the breath from his body. Ishida gasped and jerked away from Nemu, and his foot turned painfully on a rock, wrenching his ankle. He tumbled to the ground and landed harshly on pieces of a crumpled building. Something ripped through the fabric of his arm, tearing into his skin and stinging harshly.

Nemu gave no quarter, no _mercy_ as she lifted her foot, aiming her heel for the soft portion of his stomach. Ishida hurriedly rolled out of the way and scrambled to his feet, scooping up the dropped Seele Schneider. He twisted, whirling and calling up his bow within a half-second. Without even taking time to properly aim, he let loose a stream of arrows in Nemu's general direction.

Ishida didn't watch to see if they hit, already leaping up onto a fallen slab of building and using it as a launching pad to the nearest roof. His feet clomped across the shingles, and he expanded his senses, trying to find both Kurotsuchi's and Nemu's position. Within an instant, Ishida dropped into a roll and narrowly avoiding a stream of poison from Kurotsuchi's bankai. Even so, he caught an edge of a whiff of it, and he felt a ferocious burning as it entered his lungs.

This definitely hadn't been a good idea. He was only glad that the rest of the twelfth had decided to observe rather than actively participate. Otherwise, he would have lost already, and that fact galled Uryuu. He should have been stronger than this.

Coughing uncontrollably, Ishida rolled back to his legs, but they proved wobbly beneath him. His twisted ankle turned again, and he lost his balance, sliding down the slope of the roof. Scrabbling for a hand-hold even as his eyes teared up from the poison, Ishida felt several nails tear as he grabbed onto the edge of an overhang and slowed his descent.

Jerking to a halt, legs dangling just over a flatter portion of the roof, he let himself drop. Knees crumpled beneath him gracelessly, but at least, he wasn't heading for the pavement at a painful speed. But almost immediately, Ishida dissolved into a fit of coughing, blood on his lips. His head was spinning from the poison, and one hand clutched at the shingles.

As he struggled to place his feet beneath him and rise again, the Quincy suddenly felt a surge of Hollow energy within several feet of him. Whipping around, he was shocked to see Nemu – in the midst of preparing to attack his unguarded back – being blasted away by the force of a cero. Ishida's mouth dropped as he followed the projectile's path; he gaped as he found the eighth Espada sauntering towards him.

"Sz...Sza... What the hell are you doing here!?" Ishida demanded incredulously, blinking as though trying to clear away the pink-haired apparition.

The eighth Espada dropped down beside him, making it look almost elegant. "Mah, Uryuu-kun. Aizen-sama said I could tag along if I so desired. And desire I did." He smiled brightly, and Ishida almost swore he could see sparkles floating around the Arrancar's head. Just like that feathered fruit from the eleventh division. "And you look so happy to see me."

Yeah, if completely dumbfound meant happiness. Sure, Ishida was ecstatic. And in a lot of pain. He coughed then, the taste of blood still on his tongue.

In the background, Szayel's sudden appearance hadn't just surprised Ishida. Kurotsuchi's mouth had flapped in shock before his lips split into an eerie grin, fully exposing his large and yellow teeth.

"A live Arrancar!" he squeaked in terrible glee. "And an Espada at that! Fortune shines upon me. Change of plans, Nemu!"

A moment of silence passed where there was no response to Kurotsuchi's command. Eyes narrowing, he scanned the battleground for his subordinate, only to snort when he noticed her unconscious form sprawled over the battered ground. Her shihakushou was still faintly smoking, though she was very much alive.

Kurotsuchi snorted. "Pity. I should have made her more resilient."

At the sound of that callous comment, Ishida abandoned his shock. He whirled towards Kurotsuchi, sending some shingles to the ground. A righteous anger began to take form, reminding him of his hatred for this Shinigami. To be so dismissive of his own subordinates, it was beyond too cruel. And he was reminded of watching the crazed scientists blow up his assistants, Shinigami who hadn't even known they were part of his experiment. It made Ishida sick.

Beside him, Szayel sniffed. "Shoddy engineering from an inferior mind," he commented dismissively, barely sparing the man a glance. "Urahara-sama was right about you, it seems."

Ishida blinked as Szayel's comment had the desired effect. The captain puffed up, the insult a personal affront to his intelligence and scientific mind. And it soon became clear that the banter between them would amount to a cat fight in the end as they snarked at each other, insulting without making it that obvious.

They were completely distracted, inviting Ishida to form a plan. He hauled himself to his feet, despite the weakness in his lungs, and crept around the edge of Kurotsuchi's awareness. It was time for him to utilize his strongest attack.

_Snick_. The first Seele Schneider slid into place.

"That man knows nothing," Kurotsuchi denied, making a dismissive gesture. "Genius in name only. But of course, even he is superior to _you, _Arrancar. A mere facsimile."

_Snick. _The second found its mark.

"Better an autotype than a rudimentary original," Szayel returned evenly, his voice cold and disdainful. "I've at least had the dignity to remove my mask," he added with a pointed and disgusted glance at the face make-up and adornments decorating Kurotsuchi's head.

Ishida crouched to set the third point, Seele Schneider vibrating faintly in his grasp, when something massive suddenly crashed into him. Striking him full against the side and knocking him straight into the air. What little breath he had cultivated was pushed out of his body, overwhelming him with a greater dose of the poison. His vision blanked out for several long moments as his body flew. Only to crash down to earth and land on a building, forcing it to crumple inwards.

Pain exploded through the Quincy's senses, and he was coughing and trying to breathe at the same time. Every intake was a harsh, blazing inhalation. And his fingers had gone numb as his body twitched under the effect of the poison.

"You forget, child, I know all your Quincy strategies," Kurotsuchi mocked from outside the building that trapped Ishida. "That will never work on me."

Groaning, Uryuu stirred, entire body aching. The smell of blood was stronger on the air now, and he faintly realized that he was bleeding. His head, his elbow, a fierce gash on his leg that would ensure he walked with a limp for some time.

The feeling of a Hollow's presence suddenly became stronger, almost stifling. It was filled with hunger and anger, a burning fury that wouldn't be easily quenched. Szayel was more than a little annoyed; he was furious, reiatsu climbing steadily as a result. And somewhere, beneath the press of his rising power, Nemu slowly woke up.

Through great effort that would have made Kurosaki proud, Ishida hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain and the injuries. He stumbled out to the street, a bit bleary-eyed but thankfully conscious. On the corner of his vision, he noticed Nemu had also lurched to her feet and was preparing to launch herself at Szayel.

Strangely enough, Ishida reacted without truly thinking. Ginrei Koujaku flared to life in his fingers, the warmth of his bow chasing away some of the numbness. And he fired an arrow, perfect aim as always soaring into Nemu's right shoulder. The force of it was enough to drive her several steps back, pinning her to a wall. The stone cracked and rumbled but didn't fall as she reached up, attempting to grasp the projectile. It burned at her touch, however, reiatsu crackling along her fingertips. But Ishida knew it wouldn't hold her for too long. She would soon find a way to be free. He had to do something to incapacitate her completely. _Without_ killing her.

In the background, he felt Szayel's reiatsu surge as he hissed something angry and biting. With a gesture, his power suddenly exploded as he slipped into resurrecci_ó_n, the ostentatious form of _Fornicaras_. An all too familiar figure. Kurotsuchi would be distracted for the time being as he practically salivated over getting to see the Espada's release.

Ishida picked his way across the ground, limping on his twisted ankle. But with his other leg injured too, it evened out somewhat. Nemu was still struggling as he approached, trying to force her body off the impaling arrow. Ishida knew that she would never stop until she had completed her task or had died herself. He briefly wondered if she were programmed to be like that before dismissing the sobering thought. He couldn't simply knock her out; she would heal herself quickly and rise again. And Uryuu owed her a debt.

He couldn't kill her, but he could put an end to this. It might very well destroy her, since he was uncertain of her true composition, but there was nothing else the Quincy could think to do. The risk would have to be taken.

Drawing a second arrow and glad that their close proximity would help prevent him from missing, he aimed it directly at Nemu's chest. She looked at him, no ounce of begging in her gaze, and he could have sworn she was relieved. She said nothing as he released the arrow. It directly struck her soukatsui. Severing her Shinigami abilities.

Her gaze met his for all of a moment, understanding glinting in her bright eyes before they shuttered closed, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Ishida lifted his senses and was relieved to find that it hadn't killed her. Just drained her of all energy. Sighing in relief, he reached for the arrows and pulled them out, letting her unconscious form slump to the ground. She would no longer pose a threat.

Behind him, there was a sudden rumble as Szayel and Kurotsuchi clashed, large insect meeting the extending tendrils of the Espada's wings. Ishida had no time to be wallowing in relief; there was still a battle to be fought. Squaring his jaw, the Quincy forced his aching body closer to the fight, wanting a better place for aiming.

There was going to be no conversation this time. No more threats. He just wanted Kurotsuchi dead without any preamble. Without any reminders of what he had done. And Nemu had provided him the means over a year ago, inadvertently letting it slip just how he could take the bastard down. And Ishida meant to capitalize on that information.

Finding a good position, Ishida ignored the piercing pain of his shoulder and summoned Ginrei Koujaku. He drew an arrow and let the power flare over him as he aimed for Kurotsuchi's head. It was the only weak spot, the only place to truly kill him. He watched as Szayel's wings clashed with the large bankai. As Kurotsuchi's mocking laughter spilled through the area. As the poison seeped from the pores of his release form.

He felt nothing, absolutely nothing, as his fingers gently relinquished the arrow. He watched as the electric blue projectile soared through the sky, true to its course. It was a strangely apathetic Ishida who watched as the arrow struck the captain straight through the head, a perfect shot.

Kurotsuchi's neck swiveled Ishida's direction. Staring hatefully his way as his body abruptly froze up, as though locked with a binding kidoh. His entire form began to swell and ballooned out in several places until it abruptly exploded into a splatter of gore – oddly fluorescent-colored – that gradually began to dissolve. Ash filled the air, catching on the lingering winds from a brutal attack and floating away. Leaving only the purple bouffant that had surrounded his head behind, which clattered to the pavement.

Rising to his feet, Ginrei Koujaku still sizzling in his hand, the Quincy felt vaguely apathetic. A wind stirred as the other twelfth division members collectively gasped at their captain's fate, eyes practically staring Uryuu down. And as for Ishida himself, he only felt tired and bloody and worn, body in incredible pain from numerous wounds. But he had finally done it. Had avenged his grandfather's death.

Out of nowhere, something suddenly grabbed Ishida from the side, swinging him around. He dropped his bow in his surprise, Ginrei Koujaku dissolving away, as he was pressed to a hard and masculine body. Before Ishida could even identify the perpetrator, a mouth covered his, despite the blood that still dotted his lips. Hands were cupping his face, and he felt the faint presence of long nails. Uryuu was floored, completely stunned, and didn't even think to fight back.

Though his eyes were open, he didn't know who it was because his glasses were fogging up. But once they cleared, his eyes widened at the familiar _pink_ that filled his vision. The eighth Espada, Szayel Aporro Grantz himself, was kissing him. Actually kissing him without so much as a hint of intention. Or permission for that matter.

After several moments where Ishida's brain refused to fire on all cylinders or even any, Szayel granted him a minute of respite and pulled away. Ishida blinked, opening his mouth to object, but Szayel was not to be deterred. He cut off the protest with the addition of a tongue, a surprisingly _skilled _tongue, and Ishida's mind went absolutely white. He hated that all he could think at that moment was that the Arrancar was actually a good kisser. And that he tasted of oranges.

When the kiss finally ended, Ishida was in a daze, wishing he had something more coherent to say or do than to blink stupidly. Szayel looked very pleased with himself as he dropped his hands and chose that moment to seal his release, reverting to his more human appearance. Ever the vain bastard.

Wait... _vain_.

Ishida suddenly remembered that they had an audience. The whole of the twelfth was still watching them, gaping at the state of their commanding officers. Ishida's face burned, and he coughed to hide his embarrassment and shifted to look at them rather than at Szayel. Anywhere but at the pink-haired... person.

In turn, the twelfth let their gazes bounce between Ishida and the eighth Espada. Then and in perfect synchronization, they turned to one of their own, a man with horns on his forehead. He blinked for all of a second, realizing that his comrades were counting on him to make the decision, before spreading his hands in front of his body.

"We surrender," the man said, his voice rather deep.

Another stumbled forward, nearly tripping on some debris. "Please, don't kill us," this Shinigami put in timidly from beside the horned guy.

Ishida honestly couldn't tell if the smaller officer was female or male.

Flicking his fingers through his hair, Szayel grinned and abruptly grabbed Ishida, dragging the Quincy in for another swift, breath-stealing kiss. It lasted too quickly for Ishida to even bother protesting.

"Come, Uryuu," he said, grabbing his hand and abruptly beginning to drag him away. "Back to my lab. We'll get you fixed in no time."

Blinking, the Quincy realized that he should probably be putting up far more of an objection rather than allowing Szayel to drag him around however he wished. The high blush that stained his cheeks was something he would rather do without, too.

He stumbled along after the eighth Espada, cursing every ache and pain in his body. Every bleeding wound and possibly twisted ankle. But at least, the Arrancar wasn't carrying him.

And it was in that moment that Szayel's words seemed to pierce the fog within his brain.

"Wait... lab?"

-----

a/n: Don't blame me! -points fingers at her beta- She was the one who wanted them together. I was merely her loyal servant, obliging mightily. But I'm sure you don't mind too much. And I'll bet that Ulquiorra/Nel was a bit shocking, too. As was their fate.

Don't throw stones just yet! Everything has a purpose and we've yet to see what happens when Aizen sits on the throne.

One more part to go before we dive into a side piece (Aftermath from Kisuke and Sousuke's POV). After that, it's the final bit titled _At World's End_.

And yes, _Doomsday_ was meant to be quick and brutal, a glance into every battle that normally would have taken me dozens of pages to write.

I hope you enjoyed!


	33. Doomsday Part III

**Title: Doomsday (Part III)**

**Pairings/Characters: Stark/Halibel, Gin/Ichigo, Everyone and their brother**

**Rating: T **

**Warning: Violence, Character Death, Language**

**Words: 5043**

**Description: The conflict heads into the final stages as the battle hinges on a single moment where Aizen Sousuke makes his move. **

* * *

"Shit."

The expletive dropped from his lips as Stark slipped into another sonido, backing away from the dangerous women. The fourth division captain was surprisingly spry, not at all like he had expected. When Aizen-sama had given him this assignment, he had anticipated someone a bit _older _looking. Certainly not this kind-faced and genteel woman, who somehow managed to be absolutely terrifying. And he didn't have any idea why.

Kind of like his boss in that. Maybe she was his mother or something.

Stark's feet landed solidly against a rooftop, and he chanced a glance over his shoulder, briefly taking his eyes away from his opponent. He could see Ichigo in the distance, fighting against more odds than any of them could have guessed. Kidoh flew everywhere around him as he flitted to avoid, dust billowing and screening much of his movement. But the kid hadn't drawn his mask yet, which meant things were still mostly in his favor.

For the moment.

"Are you not interested in battle, Espada-san?" The pleasant query, voice gentle and seemingly kind, sought his attention.

Stark grinned, hands in his pockets as he diverted his gaze back to the matronly woman. "No, I was just here for the walking tour," he replied.

Attacking the fourth should have been easy; they were healers for Aizen's sake. He expected a little destruction, no real injuries or damage. Enough to put them out of commission and provide significant distraction. He hadn't anticipated being met halfway to there by the captain, who had appeared in front of him, thereby becoming a live barrier between him and her division.

He hadn't stopped retreating since, though Stark loathed to call it that. He preferred something more like "choosing a better plan of attack while moving in a backwards direction" or "withdrawing with style."

"Oh?" she said with interest, coming to a soft rest on a rooftop near to his. "I didn't know the fourth division was included." She smiled ever-so-agreeably, resembling a mild-mannered tiger.

Stark couldn't find himself ashamed of his slight_... apprehension. _"Well, I've never been good at following directions. My girlfriend says it will be the death of me someday." He shrugged, flashing further away and closer to where Ichigo was sending a burst of _getsuga tenshou_ into his opponents.

By Aizen, the woman wouldn't stop following him. Even though he was a fair distance from her division by now.

"She sounds like an intelligent woman."

"Definitely smarter than me," Stark agreed as he thought of his lovely Bel, who would probably be very amused by this situation. "And probably more than I deserve. But that's _amore." _

She tipped her head to the side, a very interesting sight with the length of her backwards braid. "Love, Espada-san? I did not think Arrancar were capable of such a thing."

His exterior remained pleasant, but inside, Stark was just a bit perturbed. It was so like the Shinigami to think like that. As if the Arrancar and the Hollows, contained no emotion at all. That their only desires ran to killing and consuming. And perhaps that seemed true for the lowest classes, who could remember nothing of their former lives and were consumed by their hunger, their madness. But even hunger was an emotion, a desire, a need. As was the faint drive that propelled them to someone they had once loved.

Stark's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, you'd be surprised what we're capable of, taichou-san," he almost-retorted. "We're more human than you think." He leapt backwards, now within hearing range of Ichigo and the Soukyoku Hill. "And certainly more so than some of the Shinigami I've met." His friend's reiatsu was close enough now to wash over him, to spill into his senses with a fresh familiarity.

She smiled, completely unoffended by his statement. "Quite true. Aizen Sousuke is a very disturbed man."

How she insulted so kindly, Stark didn't know. But it was a talent he nearly envied.

"The boss has always seemed perfectly fine to me." His senses tingled and crawled as he was energized by the breadth of reiatsu that had blanketed Seireitei. And his waraji scraped into dust and dirt, right in the midst of a battle. "It's his special friend you have to watch out for in my opinion. Isn't that right, _amigo_?" He skidded to a stop beside Ichigo, though facing an opposite direction.

Fingers curled strongly around the hilt of his zanpakutou, the teen snorted. "The geta-boushi needs to be beaten with that damn fan of his," he snarled, briefly releasing his sword long enough to wipe blood from his forehead. He sucked in a ragged breath, as though a rib had been broken long before Stark's arrival.

"_Amigo!_ You're looking a little rough," the first Espada commented and glanced once at Ichigo before keeping his eyes on his own enemy.

The Vizard squared his shoulders, despite the pain that action must have caused to the gash on his back. "Che. You're not looking too good yourself."

The female captain flitted to a rest directly in front of Stark; he eyed her warily.

"Me? When I've been accompanied by this beautiful woman?" the Arrancar asked with a pointed gesture.

She clucked her tongue at him. "Such a flatterer. And what would your girlfriend say?" Unohana asked, reaching for her zanpakutou and slowly drawing it from its sheath.

"She's likely to agree. Bel has an eye for beauty," Stark replied and shifted his gaze to Ichigo, exchanging looks with the kid. "Shall we dance, _amigo_?" His hand dropped to his own blade.

Ichigo reached for his face, breaking into a feral grin as his opponents began to gather around their position. "I thought you'd never ask," he growled, voice taking on the Hollow echo as white accumulated around his fingers. His reiatsu surged, growing stronger with red and black, and entangled with the fierce outpouring of Stark's own.

---

"--Sougyo no Kotowari!"

The air filled with the scent of storms and thunder rumbled ominously, even above the harsh smell of burning and the thick incense of dust and ash. The wind whipped around the area as though in a frenzy, slapping at their skin and setting the debris to rustling. And Gin's skin prickled like the feeling right before lightning struck.

He whistled, awed by the power that Ukitake could command, despite his illness. "That never ceases ta impress," he commented with lifted brows. "But ya wanna see somethin' really cool?"

The older man was only half-looking at him, full concentration centered on the captain-commander, who regarded the both of them impassively. Something a bit like betrayal reflected in his eyes. Nevertheless, Ukitake inclined his head, humoring Gin.

Smirking to himself, mostly because he knew it would surprise the hell out of the old bastard, the Vizard reached up, hand covering his face. White began to gather along his fingertips, highlighted by streaks of red and blue around the edges and eye sockets of his face. And when he dropped his hand, his Hollow's mask was in full view.

It resembled a fox but only in the vaguest sense. A wide, large-toothed grin tapered to a point over his chin, and the eyes were slitted, an outpouring of bright blue in the depths. The streaks of color lined the ridges of where his cheekbones would have been. And a set of pointed, boned ears topped the crest of his mask.

Snickering to himself as power surged through his veins, Gin watched as Ukitake did an actual double-take. Looking once, then promptly looking again, mouth dropping in total surprise. Funny, Gin had never seen anyone actually do that before.

Yamamoto, however, was far less impressed. "So you've fallen this far, Ichimaru?" he all but grunted, peeling his aged eyes open and gesturing to the bone-white mask that covered Gin's face. "To be expected from Rukongai trash."

Gin's eyes flashed angrily; his reiatsu spiked and swirled around him. "Resortin' ta name callin' now?" he demanded, his voice that chilling Hollow echo, which always served to make the Shinigami shudder. "Bit juvenile, doncha think? Fer someone wit' yer advanced age."

"Now, now, children," Ukitake inserted in all seriousness, having got over his brief moment of absolute surprise. "Let's not get distracted from the matter at hand. We must not disappoint Sousuke, after all." Above them, clouds whirled and gathered together as he flexed his grip on Sougyo no Kotowari.

Gin snickered. "Aizen-taichou has his mind on other things at th' moment," he replied, not as infuriated by Yamamoto's comment as he would have expected of himself. Perhaps Ichigo's words were finally starting to sink in.

Grinning, the ex-captain abruptly snapped forward, crossing the distance between he and the old man within a split-second, hoping to catch him off guard. He practically disappeared as he shot across the street, his speed in his Hollow form surpassing even Ichigo's.

However, he hadn't judged the distance well enough. The old man barely flinched as he swung his blade, causing a massive wall of flame to spring up between himself and Gin. The Vizard had to abruptly dodge to the side in a burst of shunpo to avoid, only to watch as a gigantic tidal-wall of water slammed into the captain-commander. It crashed over him, splashing enough liquid that a touch of it dampened Gin's hakama.

Yamamoto began to sizzle, steam rising around him and filling the area with a thick, heavy mist. The fire was completely gone, lending the air a lovely scent of scorching. Gin couldn't help but laugh and point at the old bastard's soggy state, noting that Ukitake looked rather pleased himself. Hell, Gin hadn't even known that Jyuu-chan's zanpakutou could _do_ that.

He was suddenly reminded of a commercial he had seen when he was in the living world. "Ya know what they say when ya play with fire," Gin taunted in a sing-song manner as the old man's reiatsu started to rise again, likely to dry himself off.

Gin whirled midair, reversing his course and aiming for the captain-commander once more. He put on a burst of speed, flitting forward and disappearing, only to abruptly reappear directly in front of the old man.

"Someone gets burned," he hissed and swung Shinsou down so quickly that the bastard barely had enough time to bring up Ryuujin Jakka. Their zanpakutou met and the force of Gin's blow was enough to drive the captain-commander back a few paces, grunting under the impact.

And all Gin could think was that this was the man who had ordered his lover's execution. Without a second thought. Because of a possible threat. And his fury soared, his Hollow cackling in agreement. Gin pressed forward and wondered if Aizen-taichou would mind too terribly if he ripped the old bastard a new one.

Yamamoto's eyes widened for the fraction of a second under the new onslaught, but before Gin could press his advantage, he caught something from the corner of his gaze. Something searing at him from a distance. A ball of reiatsu similar to kidoh. And it was coming fast. He jerked away to avoid the sphere, it sizzling past him, and then had to abruptly dart to the side as Ryuujin Jakka came singing towards his head.

Gin felt the heat of the blade seconds before it was intercepted by Ukitake's twin zanpakutou. Reiatsu crackled and popped as the blades of mentor and student crashed together, opposing forces clashing.

Taking a breath, Gin momentarily drew his eyes away from their combined swords and fell back a pace. He searched for his attacker and found little Hinamori Momo perched on a nearby rooftop, looking like death warmed over. Twice. Her eyes were sunken and lined with dark-circles, skin ashen and dry. Her shihakushou hung from her already slight frame, and honestly, Gin wasn't sure how she was breathing. Much less standing.

"_You_," she hissed raggedly, chest heaving from the exertion of crossing the whole of Seireitei to join their fight. "I've been looking for you."

The question of whether or not she still blamed him for... well, everything was pretty much confirmed. Hinamori-chan was still off her blasted rocker, and lucky Gin got to deal with the fallout. Oh, goody. All he needed now was a zombie Hitsugaya to finish out the tableau.

"Here, I am, Momo-chan. Catch me if ya can." His grip on Shinsou strengthened.

In the background, he could hear the clashing of Jyuushiro and Yamamoto. Student and mentor were holding nothing back.

Hinamori screeched at him, a piercing sound of agony. "I hate you, bastard," she wailed and leapt at him with Tobiume raised high. It had probably not been the best idea to taunt her, but Gin couldn't help himself.

He easily evaded her swings. "Aizen-taichou sends his love," he remarked, even more surprised that she could stand considering the weight of the reiatsu in the area. Both Yamamoto and Ukitake were impressive on their own, and adding his Hollow-edged pressure made it stifling.

Then again, her insanity might have been giving her an unnatural strength. Not to mention her zanpakutou was fire-based. Perhaps that gave her an edge in withstanding Yamamoto's Ryuujin Jakka.

Her eyes widened, and she shrieked at him, nearly ear-splitting. No words. Just incoherent rage and pain. Her attacks came fiercer, more edged with fury. He easily batted away the blind strikes, but she was desperate, and she was crazed. Relentlessly throwing herself at him time and time again.

"A little help would be appreciated, Gin!" Ukitake called out from somewhere behind him, a faint cough following the request as the ringing sound of metal meeting metal echoed. There was a grinding and a scrape, followed by an earth-rattling explosion.

"Kinda busy myself," he shouted back, lips firming as he returned Hinamori's slash with a strike of his own, driving her back several paces. "But it'll just take a minute. Unless ya wanna switch?"

He didn't hear the captain's response as Hinamori shrieked again, his comments apparently only serving to piss her off further. She slashed with Tobiume and followed it with a strange kidoh that Gin had to twist to avoid. It flew past him, crashing into a building and decimating it. That might have stung a bit.

Annoyed and tired of toying with the girl, Gin had had enough. He pulled on his Hollow abilities and flared his reiatsu, holding nothing back. It was as if an anvil or something heavier had struck Hinamori in the chest, and she abruptly crumpled to her knees and gasped desperately for breath. Tobiume fell from nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground.

Flashing his reiatsu once more, Hinamori abruptly collapsed, fingers scraping at a piece of stone but unable to find purchase. It must have felt as though a giant had landed atop her, what with the pressure being placed on her body. It would be some time before the weakened girl would recover from that.

Convinced she was down for the count, Gin retracted the escaping tendrils of his spiritual pressure and abandoned Hinamori's gasping form. Ukitake was being driven back by the captain-commander, the searing heat of Ryuujin Jakka a difficult obstacle. Using a burst of shunpo, Gin dove eagerly back into the fight; his Hollow cackled in glee. Shinsou streaked through the air, slashing down at the old bastard and forcing him to block.

Gin grinned and laughed, cocking his head at Ukitake. "See? Told ya I'd be quick."

"Much obliged," Jyuushiro replied as he favored one shoulder but not quite bleeding. His comment was accompanied by a warning cough, and he felt the familiar weakness of his body flaring again. Best to make this quick then.

Gin grinned and threw himself at Yamamoto, clashing blades with the captain-commander. The meeting of the two zanpakutou produced a sparking of heat and power, the old man rumbling from the effort of it. The captain-commander summoned more of his searing flame, strong enough to incinerate a normal Shinigami in an instant. Jyuushiro and Gin could survive the heat, though it blistered at their skin and struggled to suck the water from their eyes. But Jyuushiro firmed his lips and called on Sougyo no Kotowari once more, letting the fresh wave of water splash over them, soaking the clothes of all three fighters.

"Enough," he rasped, finding his breath more difficult to catch as his reiatsu wavered. "Time and time again, sensei, I will counter your fire."

Yamamoto was unrelenting however, wind and power whipping around him as the clouds continued to darken. "We shall see, Jyuushiro, which of us has the stronger body in the end."

Jyuushiro wasn't sure if he should take that as an insult, if the comment should bother him. Especially since it was the utter truth. The captain-commander was an old man, but his body's strength still outpaced Jyuushiro's own.

"_Kitsune-bi_," Gin suddenly hissed in that terrible Hollow echo of his.

Jyuushiro watched as an odd and blue not-flame, like no kidoh he'd ever seen before, curled from the man's long fingertips. It formed the body of a fox – mouth opened and baring fangs – before throwing itself at Yamamoto, growing larger with each passing second.

Gin's reiatsu spiked, and then, the spell tried to enclose its mouth around the captain-commander's head. Yamamoto flitted backwards, the edge of the kidoh catching on his arm and biting into flesh. Blood welled immediately before the spectral fox vanished, Gin suddenly appearing in its wake.

Two blades met and clashed once more, Gin muttering something under his breath that Jyuushiro could not catch. He darted forward with the intent to aid the Vizard when his lungs felt as if they were exploding in his chest. He doubled over, hacking up blood. Gin noticed his moment of weakness and placed himself between Yamamoto and him, driving the old bastard back and giving Ukitake room.

He would have thanked the man had he the breath to do so. As it were, Jyuushiro forced himself to temporarily drop out of the battle, head spinning as he spilled blood over his fingers. The taste of the copper was sharp on his tongue. Funny, he would have thought that he'd be used to the bitter flavor by now.

Struggling to breathe, Jyuushiro pulled out a handkerchief and covered his mouth, breathing in the medicine packed into the strong fibers. It sometimes helped to quell his spells. His chest ached as several more coughs broke their way free. His fingers spasmed around Sougyo no Kotowari.

As he lowered the square of cloth, the medicine working its way into his lungs, Jyuushiro's eyes widened. Hinamori had woken from her reiatsu-induced stupor, lurching to her feet once more. Murderous rage brightened her dead gaze, directed solely at Gin's unguarded back. And Jyuushiro knew that she didn't care that the attack would have been dishonorable.

Despite his own pain, Jyuushiro knew that he couldn't allow her to take Gin's life. Masking his coughs, he flitted to intercept her. A quick shunpo slid his body between her and her target, but his lungs threatened to revolt on him. And as his eyes teared up, he tried to remain the wall between Hinamori and Gin.

The young lady snarled at him, sounding more beast than human. "Out of my way!"

He belatedly realized that she didn't even recognize him anymore. Not for his position or for his superiority. She couldn't even tell that he was obviously stronger than her.

"Hinamori-chan, you don't know what you are doing. You're not yourself," he said gently, as kindly as possible.

Her face twisted into something ugly, unrelenting in the face of his logic. She thrust out her hand, a kidoh flying from her fingertips without an incantation of any sort. It was significantly weakened as a result, and Jyuushiro easily batted it aside and sent the twisted ball of ice and lightning careening off to the side.

"Please, stop."

His plea was met without another spell, this time a vague attempt at binding. He easily sidestepped, a small cough slipping past his lips. He winced at the coppery taste of blood that filled his mouth and recognized the exertion he was placing on his body. But he couldn't stop now. There were too many he was fighting for, including Shunsui's strained reiatsu.

"I won't." Hinamori growled at him, eyes crazed and bloodshot. "I won't until that bastard's _dead_. Until he's in _pieces_."

Jyuushiro was shocked by the malice in her voice, remembering a softly smiling girl who had once held so many dreams. He wondered how she had become this, how she had let her grief and obsession completely override all sense of rationality. And he wished he knew how to save her before she destroyed herself entirely.

He shook his head, hating that it had come to this. "Hinamori-chan, you must--"

His words abruptly broke into a fit of coughing, and it felt as if his lungs were splitting, entire chest on fire. He fought to cover his mouth with one hand as he tried to focus on the young woman, only to have his eyes widen in abject shock.

A wash of heat smacked into him, preceding the wall of flame that was speeding their direction with no regard to anything else. Yamamoto's flame.

And Jyuushiro didn't think; he simply reacted.

In spite of the weakness of his limbs and the agony of his body, he threw himself frontwards and crashed headlong into Hinamori. The two of them went flying backwards and a fair distance away. Immediately, their bodies flew apart, but that didn't stop their motion as they continued to skid down, slamming into obstacles in the form of ruined buildings. Jyuushiro felt his entire body snap as he crashed heavily into debris. Something snagged on his leg, biting deeply into the flesh. Had he the breath, he would have cried out. As it were, he couldn't stop coughing long enough as spots danced in his vision.

Several agonizing moments later, he finally came to a stop, slamming forcefully into the side of a wall. Jyuushiro allowed himself to lay there for several long minutes, groaning and trying to focus his vision. Through sheer force of will, he had managed to keep hold on one of his zanpakutou, dragging the other along with him. It was a miracle he hadn't stabbed himself with the blade.

He heard the clashing of blades in the distance, felt clashing reiatsu, and knew that Gin and Yamamoto were still fighting somewhere above him. The heat of the captain-commander's attack had passed harmlessly by him and hopefully by Hinamori-chan as well.

Hinamori-chan.

Jyuushiro forced his body to move and hauled himself to his feet. He took short and careful breaths, trying not to disturb his already weakened lungs. He wiped carefully at his lips and found his feet, though one didn't set so well. The injury would cause him to limp; he could already feel the blood streaming down the leg of his hakama.

Scanning the ground, he searched for the poor girl and sent out strings of reiatsu to feel for her. He saw her before he felt her, spying a clump of black fabric resting against another section of wall. Jyuushiro wondered what sort of structure had once been here, his tired mind unable to remember.

"Hinamori-chan?" he queried aloud as he picked his way across the ground and he neared her unmoving form.

She didn't respond, and Jyuushiro couldn't sense her.

A feeling of unease gradually began to grow, insides filling with frost. Her eyes were closed, head turned his direction, but she didn't stir when he called her name again. And then, Jyuushiro's breath vanished, catching in his throat and locking up his lungs. He dropped to his knees, horrified.

It wasn't just a wall that had stopped her momentum. It was a wall and several spikes of debris, made of both wood and stone. They stuck out from her chest and stomach, glistening grotesquely with a crimson stain.

Jyuushiro couldn't feel her reiatsu because it was no longer present.

She was dead. He had killed her.

Nausea crept up into his throat, warring with the pressing urge to cough, and Jyuushiro felt his body shaking. His eyes burned with moisture. It would be a lie if he claimed that he hadn't killed before, but he also hadn't sought Hinamori's life. The poor girl had just been confused and distraught. He had wanted to help her, not mow her down.

He reached out, as if in a daze, only to feel the faintest tug on his senses. As though something was pulling on his body. Silence covered him like a blanket as he gently brushed her hair from her face, and the world seemed to abruptly white out around him, cutting off his vision. Everything vanished, even his ability to sense reiatsu.

And then, Jyuushiro was falling.

---

"Are you done yet?" Kisuke demanded, back pressed against Sousuke's as he watched the reiatsu clashing everywhere over Seireitei.

The sense of battle was so thick that his veins practically thrummed with it. Half of the city lay in ruins already, a smoking ruin with numerous casualties on both side. If it weren't for that, Kisuke was certain they would have been discovered. But Ichigo and Gin were doing a great job of creating enough chaos for a distraction. And Kisuke was effectively shielding both his and Sousuke's reiatsu.

No one would notice what was happening until it was too late.

He felt the rumble of Sousuke's voice against his spine. "Patience is a virtue, my dear," his friend replied, tone carrying an edge of strain.

The shopkeeper twisted his jaw, Benihime rather impatient in his grasp. It had been so long since she had fought, and she wanted very much to be out there with the others.

"Things are getting rather intense out there," Kisuke reminded the soon-to-be king. He winced as a familiar reiatsu suddenly vanished. "We've already lost Grimmjow."

There was a moment of silence before Sousuke replied, his own reiatsu simmering beneath the surface, rattling at its cage. "Once I am king, there will be no more need to mourn," he declared, and from the corner of his eyes, Kisuke could see Sousuke's expression firm with resolve.

"You're assuming that the world picks you," he retorted logically. "Personally, my money is on Ichigo. Someone out there has to be looking out for him."

Sousuke sucked in a breath of aggravation, though whether because of Kisuke or his current attempts at opening the gate the shopkeeper was uncertain.

"So long as it's not you," Sousuke snarked.

"Mah, you wound me," Kisuke teased and lifted a hand to press it briefly over his chest. "My heart, it bleeds. I thought you loved me."

Eyebrow twitching, Sousuke's mouth opened to respond, but their senses suddenly sang with the feeling of vanishing reiatsu. Two very familiar signatures, near to both their hearts. Kisuke felt his stomach clench as he swallowed thickly. Nel-chan and Ulquiorra had both fallen.

"Sousuke--"

"I know," the lord and master of Hueco Mundo cut off testily, gritting his teeth. "I know."

The shopkeeper shifted uncomfortably, the warmth of Sousuke's back against his a small reassurance. "Some of the others aren't far behind." His brow furrowed beneath the shading of his favorite hat as he concentrated. "Shunsui won't last much longer."

"He's always been a stubborn man." Sousuke sounded greatly fatigued.

The reiatsu necessary to use the key was quite substantial, and not even the great Aizen Sousuke could use it without repercussions. Kisuke could only hope that it wouldn't kill him.

But that was Sousuke's choice to make and his chance to take. He didn't dare try to stop him. He could only watch his dearest friend's back and lend his support. Kisuke absolutely hated feeling this powerless.

"It must run in the family," the blond replied, licking his lips as he watched the horizon, and the evidence of fierce battle that lingered in the skies over Seireitei. "I'm sure Gin would agree."

Sousuke snorted, his power curling close around his body and thrumming gently across his skin. Even Kisuke could feel it against his own. "I'm sure he has his mind on other things."

"Like Ichigo," the shopkeeper helpfully supplied, thinking fondly of the two and their enviable relationship. "The old man. Jyuu-chan. His toothbrush. Yeah, Shunsui's pretty far down the list." His lightheartedness helped with the apprehension and the worry.

Kisuke knew he was partially babbling and that his talking betrayed him, but he couldn't find it in him to care. This was one of those pivotal moments. So much rested on right _now_, so many lives. They couldn't afford for Sousuke to fail.

He trusted this man, just as so many others did. They all believed that he would find the path to heaven and to the throne. Otherwise, none of them would be fighting right now, risking their lives for his ideals.

Beyond Kisuke's sight, he felt Gin's reiatsu flare brightly, simmering with the dark energies of his Hollow. And Ichigo and Stark promptly followed suit, bathing all of Soul Society in the force of their combined energies. Ichigo was already in bankai, and now, he was relying on his Hollow? Things were quickly sliding downhill.

Fingers tightly curled around Benihime, so much so that his knuckles were white. "_Sousuke_," he urged, wanting to impress upon his dearest friend the urgency of the situation.

There was the faintest of clicks, like a key sliding into a lock. And then, Sousuke straightened, his back fully against Kisuke.

"Done," he declared satisfactorily.

Kisuke felt it, pulling on his senses, drowning out all semblance of sight and sound until he was covered in absolute white. His body was being tugged in all directions, and he received the vaguest sense of a Garganta… but only a distant cousin of one. He felt Sousuke shift behind him, turning to catch his eye.

And the last thing he saw before his vision blanked out completely was Aizen Sousuke's triumphant smile

* * *

a/n: And that's the end of Doomsday. I'd say that I'm sorry for the cliff hanger, but in reality, I'm not. I'm just an evil authoress like that. Mwa ha.

I've a couple side pieces I'm going to sneak in before I give you guys At World's End. They're good pieces, I promise!

I hope you enjoyed this part! There's more to come. Thanks!


	34. The Other Half

a/n: Here's another one of those side bits. Finally, the Aizen and Urahara part of "Aftermath".

Also, because there's been some confusion, I'd like to clarify a couple key pieces about "Doomsday". The Espada that Zaraki decided to fight was Barragan. And Ukitake is not dead, just affected by Aizen using the King's Key. Also, Shunsui is still alive; Nanao's attack was not enough to kill him. Errm, I think that's all.

Enjoy!

**Title: The Other Half**

**Characters: Aizen, Urahara**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Fluff sorta. As fluffy as these two can get anyway. **

**Words: 1710**

**Description: Aizen Sousuke had never wanted the weakness of attachment, and this had only reminded him of how dangerous it could be. **

* * *

It was taking longer than it should have. Too much longer. Sousuke didn't understand it. Ichigo had woken almost immediately, barely an hour after he had injected the cure. And yet, half a day later, Sousuke was still sitting here by Kisuke's side, waiting for the shopkeeper to waken.

There had been little change to Sousuke's knowledge. His breathing was still even, though his face had gained a little color. He didn't appear to be wasting away anymore, but that didn't mean anything because Kisuke _still hadn't woken_.

On the next bed over, Ichigo and Gin were asleep, curled together like lost kittens. Ichigo was still weak, unable to rise from the bed. And Gin was exhausted after having sat by his lover's side without pause since Ichigo was poisoned. They deserved their rest, so Sousuke allowed them to have it. Ichigo needed it, after all. But at least he'd regained consciousness.

The machine beeped in a steady rhythm. Kisuke was alive. Sousuke could feel him and his reiatsu, which had been fading recently, sinking lower and lower into the blond's body. Not for the first time, he cursed Kisuke's ability to hide himself, to put his senses into a sort of stasis.

What if he didn't awaken? What if Sousuke had cured the body, but couldn't pull Kisuke's mind out of its – _No_. He was not going to think like that.

He was lord and master of Hueco Mundo. Soon, he would be king of Soul Society. He did not need to second guess himself.

Sighing, he shifted position in his seat and rubbed fingers over his forehead. The silence of the laboratory was unnerving, the sound of things burbling only made it that much more disconcerting. He watched Kisuke carefully, his chest rising and falling in steadying rhythms. No change. There was simply no change.

Sousuke thought of the anger that would burn through his veins if his friend died. His war against Seireitei shouldn't have been for such personal reasons, but Sousuke was not so righteous that he could abandon his anger entirely. He had already lost Shigure to those bastards. He was _not_ going to lose another. He refused.

The steady beeping in the background, a constant litany that Sousuke had almost managed to tune out, suddenly changed its cadence. He nearly jerked at the alarming occurrence, as it jarred him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the monitor, which was now showing a much quicker pace. In fact, it was more resembling that of an active individual.

Sousuke dropped his gaze to Kisuke and caught sight of fingers twitching. The shopkeeper's breath hitched, sucking in air sharply before letting out another breath, accompanied by a long and breathy groan. Anticipation caught itself in Sousuke's throat, along with a hefty sense of relief. Damn Kisuke, always worrying him just to be aggravating. Why he continued to put up with the other man, Sousuke didn't know.

After what seemed like a ridiculous time waiting, Kisuke's eyes finally opened and fluttered weakly. He groaned, lifting a hand to cover his face as he turned away from the brightness of the lighting.

"My head is pounding," Kisuke rasped, throat no doubt dry from the stasis. "Did you get the name of the Hollow that trampled me?"

Working his jaw soundlessly for a moment, Sousuke contemplated hurting the man in front of him. But it went against his principle to kick a person while he was down. Or in this case, strangle Kisuke when he was already injured. He settled for bristling, trying to hide emotion from his voice and only marginally succeeding.

"You idiot," Sousuke grated out the words. "How could you let something like a poison take you down?"

Gray-green eyes shifted to him, shadowed by the protection of his palm. "Aw, Sou-kun, were you worried about me?" Kisuke hacked, a sound that attempted to be a sort of coo but came out hoarse and rough.

For a moment, Sousuke could only look at him with a stunned sort of silence. All of the concern that had been riding on his shoulders, the fear and the trepidation, crashed over him. And this idiot could only call it "worry?" As if it was something so simple!

"Worried?" Sousuke repeated, and his voice rose in volume of its own accord. He hurried to lower it, not wishing to wake Ichigo and Gin. "You almost died."

And really that said it all. Worry wasn't nearly enough to describe what he had been going through.

"But I didn't," Kisuke returned, tone still cheery but now sufficiently guarded as he watched his companion, gaze unrelenting despite his fatigue. "You found the antidote. Just like I knew you would." He leaned back against the pillow and licked his dry lips with a tongue that was equally dry. "Ah, but I wanted to research it, too."

Arguing with himself for several moments, Sousuke covered the action by reaching for a small glass of water and cheerful pink straw – courtesy of Szayel, of course. He held it to Kisuke's lips, helping the weakened man take a long drink.

It was just like the blond to be so flippant, and he warred with a mixture of anger and relief and exasperation on the inside. Kisuke would never show just how terrified he had been for himself.

Brown eyes narrowed as the cup was returned to the bedside table. "Sometimes, Kisuke, I find in me the ability to hate you."

The shopkeeper furrowed his brow, and all sense of teasing smoothed out into something more serious. "Sousuke?"

He fought with himself for several long moments, glancing down at his hands that were clenching and unclenching; when had he developed such a nervous tic? Really, it was intolerable.

"I have trampled over many to get to this point, and I will likely trample over more to find the king's throne," Sousuke began, searching for the right words and finding them more difficult than they should have been. "And yet, I find myself with these... weaknesses."

There was no other way to call it.

He could feel his friend studying him, even as the bed creaked as he attempted to sit up but couldn't quite make it.

"Caring for others is not a weakness. In fact, it's rather admirable."

He didn't look at Kisuke and honestly wasn't sure why. "In the beginning, when I first began to plot, I tried to throw away anything that would hold me back. Associations. Emotions. Anything that would bring regret."

"Why?"

"It was easier that way."

Kisuke snorted, though it came out less disbelieving and more sickly. "Somehow, I find that difficult to believe."

Finally lifting his eyes, he tossed the shopkeeper an annoyed look.

Kisuke shrugged. "But it's your story. Not mine. I don't claim to know all the details." He paused and tilted his head to the side as he finally lowered his hand, able to withstand the bright lights of the laboratory. "I always suspected something deeper than a desire to cleanse Seireitei drove you. It's not my place to ask."

Sousuke's response was noncommittal as he considered Kisuke's words. It bothered him, this weakness, in as much as it made him angry. Once again, Soul Society had proven just how honorless it was. Would they take every opportunity to attempt to steal what was precious to him? Not that he would admit aloud to Kisuke how much he treasured the man's friendship.

Rubbing a hand over his forehead again, Sousuke rose to his feet. He tried not to make his chair clatter behind him and wake the practically newlyweds behind him.

"Do me a favor," he stated perhaps a bit too aggressively. "Try not to get yourself poisoned or at least on the edge of death the next time we see battle."

Kisuke's lips twitched, eyes glinting with a mysterious sort of understanding. And then he was grinning, like the utter fool he was.

"Why, Sou-kun, you do care after all! I think my heart just skipped a beat." His response was upbeat, but it was clear he was fighting back a yawn, real exhaustion cresting over him rather than that tepid stasis.

He rolled his eyes, preferring this Kisuke to the serious one he had so narrowly escaped. "That was probably just the growling of your stomach. You haven't eaten anything in several days."

He appeared to consider this for a moment. "Nope. Pretty sure it was my heart." One hand fluttered out, patting the empty space on the bed beside him. "You could join me," he hinted strongly with his usual tease. "I want someone to snuggle with like Ichi-chan."

Sousuke couldn't help it; his lips twitched into a smile. "I'll see if Gin is free later then," he replied dryly unable to resist the barb. The look he received in return was amusing in itself.

Kisuke waved a hand weakly at him as he sniffed in disappointment. "No offense, but I'd rather not find myself on the pointy end of Zangetsu. I guess I'll just sleep alone. As boring as that sounds."

"You do that," Sousuke replied as the blonde appeared to settle back, the dark circles under his eyes suddenly that much more apparent.

He watched Kisuke for a moment more just to make certain that the shopkeeper was actually going to sleep before he turned away. He did, after all, have work that needed to be done. Plans needed to be made, repercussions to plot. Soul Society could not be allowed to get away with this.

The worry that he had been feeling, the trepidation, finally eased itself out of his tense muscles. And Sousuke felt he could breathe deeply again. He hadn't failed as he had suspected. Kisuke would live to be his annoying self once again. He should have known better than to doubt himself. As future king, he should have had no doubt.

"You better not start the battle without me."

The voice floated out from behind him, causing Sousuke to pause for a moment. His lips curved into a smile before he continued to the door, footsteps whisper soft against the floor. As if he could do such a thing.

"I wouldn't dare dream of it."

* * *

a/n: Awww, they're just so cute. I love Kisuke and Sousuke interaction. And I'm still being purposefully vague with the depth of their relationship. I leave that up to the readers; you decide. It was hard to find the tone for this piece, but I still like it. Aizen is unexpectedly vulnerable here, it's rather adorable. *grins*

I hope you liked! There's another side piece coming up next week!


	35. The Final Straw

**Title: The Final Straw**

**Characters: Isshin, Yoruichi, mentions of others**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Language, spoilers**

**Words: 1946**

**Placement: Before "The Key to Everything" and after "Aftermath" and "The Other Half"  
**

**Description: In the end, it was one of the easiest choices Isshin had ever made. **

* * *

He sat and stared into nothing, words echoing round and round in his head. Somewhere beyond his sight but within the house, he could hear a television. There was a shower running. And Yuzu doing the dishes in the kitchen, humming under her breath, pretending that everything was fine even if it wasn't.

They had tried to kill his son.

It echoed in his mind.

Seireitei. They had tried to _kill_ his _son. _

Isshin knew that he should have expected as much. Ichigo wasn't exactly on their favored son's list anymore. Not after what the Shinigami had planned to do beforehand, what they had run away to escape and why Ichigo had fled to Hueco Mundo. But to do something so callous, so cowardly as attacking during the night. As applying some sort of twisted poison.

It made his blood burn. Boil. A haze of red filling his vision until he could feel his reiatsu sizzling at his self-induced shields.

For the first time in so many, many years, Isshin was angry. Beyond furious. He felt his fingers drawing into fists, felt his reiatsu swirl and collide against the barriers that held it tightly to his frame. He felt the urge to draw his zanpakutou again, to see blood stain the hilt and blade. And to finally – _finally!_ – enact something like revenge. He wanted to see Seireitei burn and not for himself.

He had thought that he had left it all behind him. But he should have known that leaving didn't necessarily mean he had escaped. The breadth of the reiatsu in his son, the rising power in his daughters, it was only a matter of time before his connections to Soul Society caught up to them.

Pushing himself to his feet, Isshin rose from the back porch where he had been staring into nothingness and turned back towards the house. He tucked the envelopes that Yoruichi had given him under one arm and stepped through the sliding door into the living room.

Sado-kun was watching something on the television, and though his dark eyes met Isshin's, he didn't ask. Isshin rather liked him for that, his understanding silence. The boy was a good friend to Ichigo, and he was glad that his son had met someone like Sado-kun. Isshin tossed the teen the letter Ichigo had written.

He moved on, passing quickly through and down the hallway. By the kitchen and the bathroom door where the shower was still running. Probably Orihime-chan, unless she was still out shopping. He opened his senses briefly, recognizing Karin. Okay, his daughter then. No surprise there.

Stopping by the twins' shared room, he left the letters Ichigo had written them on their dresser. He eyes flickered briefly to the picture sitting next to the formerly empty space. A family photo that Yuzu must have grabbed before they had fled. Masaki smiled lovingly back at him, holding Ichigo in her arms as Isshin cradled newly born twins, looking flustered. Kisuke had taken that picture for them, he remembered.

Happier times.

Twisting his jaw, Isshin left the room and moved down the hall. He tossed Orihime-chan's letter onto her bed as he passed. The bubbly girl was probably still at the store, hopefully obeying the list they had written and not trying to spice it up with her own sense of flavor. Perhaps Yamada-kun would help rein her in. Isshin held onto the letter for the healer, who now stayed in a neighboring house with Kisuke's staff.

At the end of the hall was his own bedroom, and Isshin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He was looking for something specific, a small and latched box under the bed, right beneath the headboard. In a few minutes, he had it out, covered with dust despite the fact that it had recently been moved from their house to this place. The mattress squeaked as Isshin plopped down on it, momentarily running his hands over the lid and sides.

No one could see it unless they had spiritual powers of significant strength. He'd had Kisuke create this for him not too long ago, though he didn't say why he had needed it. He assumed that Kisuke had his suspicions, but the shopkeeper had never been able to fully figure it out.

It was simple and plain, a small box of dark wood with a dark-metal latch on the front. Even in his gigai, he could feel the power pulsing over the surface. The power that it contained with no small amount of struggle. Taking a deep breath, Isshin flicked the latch with a thumb and pushed the lid open.

There wasn't much to it. The box wasn't lined or anything spectacular. And only one item rested in the bottom against the grain of the wood. A silver key that seemed rather innocuous were it not for the purpose that made it so important. The very thing that Aizen Sousuke was seeking at this moment. And the very thing that bastard Yamamoto probably didn't even realize was missing.

It was one of the few things that Isshin had taken with him when he'd left.

There was no love lost between he and his father, and Isshin could now admit this without stirring surges of anger. That emotion inside him had turned empty after the first few decades. Now, he just passively disliked his father and left it at that. He had no energy to spare for hatred of the old man. The captain-commander would never know that Isshin had taken the key. At least, not until it came back to bite him in the ass. As he so richly deserved.

Isshin might have left Soul Society sooner if it hadn't been for his mother. If there was one person that he had truly loved from Seireitei, it was her, Yamamoto Mikan. She'd been the light of their lives, and he never understood how she had fallen for a man like Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni. She'd been the only reason Isshin had put up with the old bastard for so long. And when she had died, her son didn't bother trying sticking around.

He had departed Soul Society and never looked back.

Shunsui and Jyuushiro, they hadn't understood, which was why he hadn't told them. In fact, he hadn't really told anyone he was leaving. Just up and vanished in the middle of the night. He had taken the key as one last "fuck you" to the old man and had laughed at the thought that it would be a long time before the bastard even noticed it was missing.

They probably thought he was dead. It was for the better that they did anyway. Shun and Jyuu-chan, they had always been Yamamoto's favorites. Where they had and still received praise, Isshin had been chastised. While they were treated as sons, Isshin had always been compared to a stranger. But Isshin had never blamed Shunsui and Jyuushiro for that favoritism; it wasn't their fault.

The old bastard had simply taken his fear of the appearance of nepotism to the extreme and not once could Isshin remember a moment when he felt his father had been proud of him. Rising swiftly through the Shinigami ranks hadn't been enough. Promoted several seats then to vice-captain and captain and finally chosen for the Royal Guard. It had never been enough. It was never enough.

Yamamoto had always managed to find some fault in everything, until it got to the point that Isshin had stopped trying to impress him. Had stopped trying to even be his son or even an acquaintance. And often, Mikan had been the only barrier between them, preventing things from being completely destroyed. Father and son had never understood each other. And not even his dear mother had been enough to change that.

Argue and tease as he might, Isshin had always loved Ichigo. Loved all his children. Not something his own father could claim.

Frowning faintly, Isshin traced a finger over the length of the key. He could feel the reiatsu in the metal, pulsing over it and pressing insistently against him. It was tired of lying dormant; it wanted to serve its purpose. A king needed to be chosen. That was what the energetic throb seemed to say.

They'd tried to kill his son. Yamamoto had tried to kill his own grandson. His _only_ grandson. Granted, the captain-commander might not have known who Ichigo was. Ichigo looked too much like a Shiba, like Mikan's family. But it wasn't obvious that he was related to the old bastard unless the subtle hints of Isshin's reiatsu within Ichigo were that noticeable. Hell, Isshin could hardly tell. And it was so vastly out powered by the feeling of Ichigo himself – and his Hollow powers at times – that it was almost impossible to sense.

None of that, however, explained why Yamamoto had taken measures to murder Ichigo and his friends. And then the most recent attempt, a so despicably cowardly attempt, was the worst so far. He had driven Ichigo to the one place that would accept him and then faulted the boy for it. True Seireitei logic at its best. They honestly believed Ichigo should have just accepted his death for the skittish caution it was. Agreed that it was in his best interest to die. Fools.

Isshin knew in that moment what it was he had to do. The key was right; a king needed to be chosen. That was the only way things were going to change, the only way Ichigo could be safe again. The only way his daughters would be safe. And Orihime-chan. Sado-kun. Ishida-kun. Everyone. Yamamoto and Chamber 46 had to fall, to be replaced.

It was the only way.

He made his decision then and there. It might have been selfish. But to Isshin, there was no one more precious than his children. And he would risk the world if it meant they would be safe. The key would go to Aizen. Isshin could think of no one more deserving, and besides, Ichigo would have wanted him to.

"So that's where it was."

Isshin nearly dropped the key in his surprise. He whirled around, finding Yoruichi crouched in his window, grinning at him. Her eyes still gleamed with a quite fury, much like his own he imagined. Isshin hadn't even felt her coming. Damn ninjas. His fingers curled around the King's Key, felt the metal bite into his fingers.

The former captain tilted her head to the side. "I never would have expected you to have it. Though I should have known."

"The old bastard still thinks it's safe in its hiding place," Isshin returned with an almost-smile. "I'm thinking I'll look forward to proving him wrong."

Yoruichi's lips twitched. "You'll just give it away? It's that easy?"

Inclining his head, Isshin felt that anger returning. Not that it had ever really gone away. "They tried to kill Ichigo. _My son! _That's all the reason I need."

She slipped into the room and landed silently on his carpet as she leaned back against the open window. "It's reason enough. You wouldn't happen to need a guide would you?" Yoruichi asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

As a matter of fact, he would. Since Sou-kun hadn't exactly advertised his position and Isshin had no clue how he would get into Las Noches. He didn't want Yoruichi to deliver the key; he wanted to hand it over himself.

"Yeah, I would," Isshin agreed.

He wanted to give Aizen his victory with his own two hands.

* * *

a/n: I hope this clarified some things for everyone! I know some people wanted to know why Isshin chose to do what he did when he did it. There's massive conjecture in this, so I wouldn't be surprised if Kubo proves me entirely wrong. Heh.

Next week, we return to the regularly scheduled plot. Huzzah!


	36. At World's End Part I

a/n: At last, the return to the main storyline. Enjoy!

**Title: At World's End (Part One)**

**Pairings/Characters: Everyone not dead, except for Shigure. And Gin/Ichigo. **

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Spoilers **

**Words: 4782**

**Description: ****Eternity stretches before him and the fate of the spiritual world rests in its own hands. Victory hinges on a single choice. **

**AN: Vaguely refers to my **_**Seireitei Monogatari**_** drabble fic, **_**The Laughing Grim Reaper**_**,**** which is number 80**

* * *

"I always expected heaven to be more..."

"Clean?"

"Royal?"

"Angelic?"

"Blue?"

"Pink?"

In tandem, several pairs of very confused eyes turned towards one Szayel Aporro Grantz, who still clung to Ishida's hand as though fearing the Quincy would escape from him at any moment. At their stares, the eighth Espada merely sniffed.

"Pink _is_ perfection," he declared, flicking his hair with one hand and demonstrating exactly why he thought so. Not a modest one was he.

Kisuke shook his head, rubbing fingers over his brow as he looked down at the gathering of human and Shinigami, friend and foe alike. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're all in such high spirits," he drawled, most of them sharing the same confused look before turning to examine the surrounding area.

A landscape stretched out around them, filling the horizon as far as the eye could see. Currently, they all stood gathered at the top of a huge, golden structure, similar to a Mayan temple. And large, blocked steps led downwards in each of the four directions. All fighting had ceased as their attention was grabbed by the oddity of the situation, taking in what lay sprawled out below them.

The land itself was covered in a thick blanket of white mist, obscuring the earth and most of the low-lying vegetation. Springing up from the fog were other structures appearing to be temples in various states of wear and with different styles. Some looked as if they were newly built, and others looked as if they were two steps away from collapsing inwards.

"Where are we?" A lone voice emerged from the crowd of Shinigami, Vizard, Arrancar, Quincy, and traitors alike.

Aizen, who had been standing in the very center of the crowd, suddenly made his presence known. "Can you not tell?" he questioned, voice carrying easily in the hushed silence. "This is heaven."

Someone scoffed, disbelief rising above the ensuing murmur that rippled through the crowd. "Don't look like much a one ta me."

"But how did we get here?" Ukitake queried, feelings a mish-mash of regret and confusion.

"The key," Urahara explained from beside Aizen, the both of them looking a tad weary. "For some reason, it brought everyone here."

Reiatsu trickled through the gathered crowd like clinging, searching tendrils and subtly parting the throng. Yamamoto's aged face appeared at one end of the path, which would have led him straight to Aizen and Urahara, who were now flanked by Gin and Ichigo. Wrinkled fingers tightened around the head of his zanpakutou that had returned to its staff form. In fact, most of the hostilities had abruptly vanished at the sudden switch in location.

His gaze centered on the lord of Hueco Mundo. "And how did you get that key?" he demanded gruffly, several of his more loyal subordinates clustering around him as the line began to draw itself.

His Espada returning to his side, creating an obvious division in the forces atop the largest temple, Aizen inclined his head. "It was a gift." His eyes glinted. "From someone else you managed to anger."

"Yer own son betrayed ya," Gin added with a faint cackle and smirk of amusement. "Tell me, old man, how does tha' feel?"

It took several seconds for understanding to filter into the captain-commander's conscious, and then, his eyes widened fractionally. "Isshin," he stated on the end of a growl. And that was all he said, the implications falling heavily on him and the Shinigami who stood by his side.

"If this is heaven, then where's the throne," Ichigo unexpectedly asked, ignoring the mention of his father as he glanced around.

Nearby, Aizen smirked and pointed, gesturing vaguely to the landscape below them and the many temples. "There," he explained. "One of those hides the right one."

"A scavenger hunt was not in the manual," Urahara commented with an askance glare at what had to be a hundred different structures. Even more were barely visible in the distance.

In light of that information, Yamamoto drew up straight, his expression thunderous. "I will not stand here and watch you become king, Aizen," he warned with a dangerous rumble. Whirling, he faced his subordinates. "Find that throne immediately," he ordered. "Or find yourselves surrounded by chaos."

Aizen merely smirked at the idea of such a challenge because he held information that the old man didn't. He had the feeling he knew exactly which one to head to. While the Shinigami scurried around like rodents searching for a speck of food in yesterday's garbage, he would seat himself upon the throne.

His fingers enclosed around the key, still a necessary object, as he pushed it safely into his pocket. Few knew that it was also needed to unlock the throne room once the correct temple had been chosen, which was why none of the Shinigami would ever find themselves on that throne.

As the Shinigami abruptly scattered, abandoning their prior battles and focusing only on finding the right temple, Aizen turned towards his own subordinates. He tried not to distract himself with how many he had lost. Once he was king, there would be no need to mourn. As soon as he was king.

"Kisuke, Gin, Ichigo, you three are with me. The rest of you, join their ridiculous search. Distract them however you must. I want no followers."

Hands in his pockets, Stark tipped his head to the side. "You know where you're going then, boss?"

"Would you expect any less of me?" Aizen replied a touch arrogantly. "Do try not to get yourselves killed. Our comrades in Hueco Mundo are waiting."

Ichigo sucked in a breath, idly wiping at a trickle of blood that streamed down the side of his face. "I hope you know what you're doing," he commented, feeling a bit haggard himself. "Otherwise, this'll not end well."

The lord of Hueco Mundo merely inclined his head, turning to the south-facing steps and moving to walk down them. "Everyone has their own idea of what heaven should be," he explained as the other three followed him. "And that will lead them to their own conclusions about which temple houses the throne. They do not understand what heaven really is."

"And that would be?" Kisuke prompted, having not heard this part himself; Sousuke had been rather hush-hush about the whole manner.

"A reflection of the world itself," Aizen answered as he stepped down the last stair and landed on solid ground, ankles disappearing in the thick fog. "It is not the grandest palace. It is a humble existence, a broken existence."

Ichigo furrowed his brow, having some trouble following the man's logic. His waraji squished on the soggy soil beneath their feet as they waded into the mist, the sounds of the other Shinigami far ahead of them. And yet, Aizen guided their group effortlessly, seeming to know by instinct where to go.

Beside him, Gin bumped shoulders. Ichigo glanced at his lover, a bit concerned by the obvious scorch marks on his shihakushou.

"It's Aizen-taichou," Gin murmured, taking Ichigo's hand and squeezing it briefly. Reassuringly. "Trust him."

He had, after all, gotten them this far. And Gin trusted Aizen with his life. With _Ichigo's _life. It wasn't that difficult for Ichigo to follow.

* * *

He knew that they were skeptical. If Aizen hadn't known the truth himself, he would be as well. But the building that stood before them in all its dilapidated glory was surely the correct temple. The one he had been seeking. The stone wall that surrounded the entire structure was crumbling on the top, the edges uneven and the coloration faded with time. There was evidence of watermarks and storm damage, making him wonder why it hadn't fallen yet.

"Are you sure, Sousuke?" Urahara asked as they stepped past the creaking gate, swaying in an invisible wind and squeaking with every motion.

Casting his gaze over the courtyard, the overlord simply nodded. "Without a doubt," he confirmed as he took in the state of the court. He was certain it had probably once been beautiful, elegant in its subtle simplicity. Now, it was only so in a sad and desperate way, as though clinging to its former glory by a very thin thread.

There was a singular path leading from the main gate to the front entrance that was darkened by a steep overhang of crumbling stone. To either side of the cobbled path, missing dozens of once-inset rock, the courtyard had once been home to flowering trees. Their branches curled elegantly upwards, but a few drooped down like a weeping willow. They would've been beautiful had they not been dead, each branch gnarled as though a single touch would crack them. Few leaves dotted the bare limbs, rustling in the faint and stale breeze. Even more telling was the liquid that ran down each trunk in soft rivulets, pooling on the ground beneath the covering of mist. And poking up from the fog, grass lined the earth, bent over as though weighted by age and a dull green like the plains in fading summer.

Ichigo stepped off the beaten path, curiosity driving him to the nearest tree. He reached out, fingers brushing across the rust-colored sap. Surprisingly, it was fresh and rubbed off on his fingertips. Furrowing his brow, he brought it towards his nose, giving it a cautious sniff. The sharp and bitter scent of copper flowed to his nostrils.

His eyes widened in shock. "It's blood," he declared, dropping his hand to wipe his fingers on his hakama. To rub away the feeling of sanguine fluid on his fingertips. "The trees are bleeding."

"And rightly so," Aizen replied from ahead of the rest of his companions, gaze unerringly focused on the entrance to the temple. "I imagine that any onlooker would see the state of our world in much the same manner. Barely clinging to life."

Urahara tilted his head to the side as he tried to absorb every detail. "The temple reflects the world," he murmured. "I see what you mean now."

"Che, figures." Gin wrinkled his nose as he moved to catch up to Aizen, Ichigo following him. "Looks like this even with the royal family 'ere."

"That so-called royalty was given by man and is therefore invalid," Sousuke explained as he found the bottom of the stairs and began his ascent, ignoring the stones as they shifted beneath him. "The world did not accept them, so even if they had sat on the throne, it would have served no purpose."

Urahara hummed noncommittally, a touch of worry entering his expression. "What makes you think that the world will accept you?"

Aizen's silence was all too telling. He had no confidence that he would be chosen by the sapient representation of the world, but he was going to attempt it anyway. After all, being rejected was better than doing nothing at all. Besides, he had a backup plan and if necessary would have all those dear to him give it a try before he gave up. Aizen was going to enact change with whatever it took.

The opening to the temple was a dark and shadowed entrance, half-covered by dead ivy. Aizen brushed the vines aside as he stepped inside with no hesitation, a chilly wind wafting from the deep and smacking him in the face. It smelled stale and old, like a crypt that hadn't been opened in centuries.

Behind him, he could hear the others making comments of their own, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. The throne was here, he could feel it. And the key was warming in his pocket, buzzing as though it held reiatsu of its own. Perhaps resonating with the throne.

Oh yes, this was the right temple.

Before him was a long corridor, holes opened in the ceiling to let in thin streams of pale light, and no other path to take but the one in front of him. Cobwebs hung from the roof, and the floor was covered in a thick layer of dust from millennia of disuse. It was starkly silent within, the sound of their steps across the otherwise smooth stone a rasping echo. And it was cold, skin prickling at the chill.

"Did anyone follow?" Aizen asked, voice reverberating up and down the long corridor, breaking an almost reverent silence.

At the back of the line, Gin shook his head and glanced over his shoulder. "If they did, I can't tell," he answered as the faint light of the exit grew less and less visible.

"Good," Aizen replied and focused on his goal. He only needed long enough to sit on the throne, and then, it didn't matter if anyone had followed.

Ahead of him, he found the end of the corridor. A thick door made of wood and banded by iron bars. Four chains crossed the front diagonally, and in the very center of the door was a lock, vaguely resembling the symbol used on Ichigo's Shinigami badge.

Aizen came to a stop in front of it, one hand reaching into his pocket to withdraw the King's Key. His companions crowded around him, all trying to watch. Even in the dim light, he could see the play of power flickering over the metal of the key, how it sparked with reiatsu. _His_ reiatsu.

He didn't hesitate, just pushed it into the lock, hearing the harsh sound of metal grating on metal. He let his reiatsu flow into the lock and then released the key, watching as it seemed to turn itself. There was a faint click and then a rumble as the temple around them began to shudder ominously.

"I hope that is supposed to happen," Urahara commented from beside him, a touch of worry entering his tone as he briefly touched fingertips to the brim of his ever-present hat.

The overlord opened his mouth to reply but was distracted by the sound of an even louder click. And then, the lock itself seemed to draw back into the door, separating from the chains. The metal links fell to the side and started to withdraw into the wall as well, vanishing into nothing. And then, there was the sound of something scraping as the door abruptly clicked open by a few inches.

Feeling closer to his goal, Aizen lifted a hand and pressed it to the door, giving a push. It opened easily, admitting him to a room that was just as dark as the corridor. Stepping inside the wide space, he immediately stopped at sight of the centerpiece. A singular throne on a raised dais six stairs high. The roof was open above it, sending down a small corona of pale light; the seat itself was covered in draping fabric but dripping in cobwebs.

Behind him, the others crowded into the entryway. Aizen dropped a hand, gesturing for them to stop.

"Wait here," he ordered, gaze focused on the aged throne.

They obeyed without argument and stayed in a cluster near the door. Aizen stepped forward, crossing the floor towards the throne. Each footstep stirred up a cloud of dust until he stood at the edge of the dais and brought his foot onto the first stair.

Almost immediately, he felt the air around him stir, and then, a form began to take shape between he and the throne. It wavered for several seconds before firming. Revealing a young man dressed in a dark blue yukata, feet bare against the cold and dust-covered stone beneath him. Tousled brown hair fell into grey-blue eyes. A very familiar young man.

Aizen Sousuke felt his heart stutter in his chest, body freezing in place. He suddenly lost the ability to breathe.

"Aniue?"

And Shigure smiled at him.

* * *

"What's going on?" Ichigo whispered, almost afraid to raise his voice in the stark silence of the large room. "Why isn't he moving?"

Urahara shook his head, gaze focused on the man in front and the throne a few stairs ahead of him. "I don't know."

Then, Aizen's shocked whisper floated to their ears, causing the three to exchange glances.

"Aniue?" Gin repeated, smile wiped away in the face of his confusion. "I didn' know Aizen-taichou had any brothers."

The blond, however, paled just a bit as recognition dawned. "He doesn't," Urahara replied, staring at the empty space that seemed to have captivated his friend. "There's only one man he ever considered like a brother to him. Sohma Shigure."

"I've never heard 'o him." Gin shifted uneasily, brow furrowing as he watched and listened to Aizen converse with an invisible entity.

"And you won't either." Heedless to Aizen's prior command, Urahara moved a few steps forward, trying to circle around and get a better view. "His name has been completely wiped from Seireitei's records. Only those who were there would ever remember him."

Zangetsu thrummed on his back, as though intrigued by something as Ichigo followed his mentor. "Who is he?"

"Former fukutaichou of the fifth. He was accused of all manner of terrible things, including having the powers of a Vizard, and executed a few centuries ago," the shopkeeper continued, eyes softening as if in remembrance. "You could say he was the catalyst for... well, everything."

Aizen's voice floated to them, soft and barely discernible. It should have worried them that he was speaking to thin air, obviously carrying a conversation with something only he could see. But there was no madness in his eyes, no confusion in his movements. Kisuke was not worried. They had expected a test of some sort, some way for the world to choose its king. Visions of past loved ones were probably only the beginning.

Gin frowned, his fingers seeking out Ichigo's as though being reminded of what it had felt like to lose something just as precious to him. "He never mentioned 'im. Not a single thing."

Urahara's hand settled on his head, pulling the hat lower over his eyes. "Admitting ones greatest pain is the same as admitting ones greatest weakness, and we all know Sousuke would never do that." He paused briefly, fascinated by the one-sided conversation.

From his position, he could see the emotions flickering across Sousuke's face, the decision that weighed on him.

"It's all up to him now." He went silent as a feeling of power began to creep into the room, sliding around the edges and filling inwards. It prickled his skin, made his own reiatsu stir in response. And he had no doubt that it was coming from the dais, called by the throne and the event that was about to take place.

They could do nothing more than watch.

* * *

"Why are you here?"

Shigure chuckled, raking a hand through his hair as had often been a habit for him. "Isn't it obvious, otouto?" he questioned, amusement on his face as he gestured with one hand. "I'm your... eh, what's the word... avatar? I think that's what they call it now."

Tipping his head to the side, Sousuke felt confused. "For what?"

One thumb jerked over Shigure's shoulder, pointing at the throne. "You want this, don't you? But the world has to deem you worthy, and I'm the voice for it."

"How are you here?" Aizen asked, still seemingly stuck on this very fact.

There was his dearest friend, a man he considered his brother, standing in front of him. He didn't appear strained and stressed as Sousuke had last seen him. But alive and well. Healthy. _Happy_.

Shigure shook his head, eyes losing a bit of their teasing edge. "I'm not alive again, Sousuke. I'm just an image, a projection of that which is most familiar to you. It's strange though." He paused to chuckle. "Most people would see themselves, but you always did have to be different."

The overlord found himself grasping for words, the research he had conducted revealing nothing. "This is a test then?"

"Yes. No. It depends on how you want to look at it." Shigure took a step, clearing the path between he and the throne so that Aizen could finally see it again. "We're pretty impressed with you. Though really, a little less destruction on your path to setting things right might have been preferable." Grey-blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully.

"We?" Sousuke repeated and dared to climb another couple of steps.

Up close, the throne looked even less intimidating. It was made of aged wood – that much he could see beneath the draping cloth – and covered in layers of dust. The light that fell on it was dim, like a hazy sky before a thunderstorm. And he belatedly realized that though Shigure stood in the light, he cast no shadow. Not to mention the arm of the throne seemed to be sticking right through his hip. He truly had no material form.

Shigure inclined his head. "Yes, we. As in the collective. The world. That which will decide everything. Whatever you want to call us."

Sousuke took the vital information in stride, eyeing the throne that seemed to sit innocently in front of him. Just waiting for him to take what he had been seeking for the better part of several centuries. The very same object that he had risked everything to obtain. He knew that the others were in the room with them, but honestly, a part of Sousuke had forgotten all about them.

"What do I have to do?" His voice came out much hoarser than he would have liked. Reverent almost.

He could feel Shigure's eyes on him, watching his every movement. "Just sit," he explained, tone an honest invitation. "And think of what you want most from us. We'll take it from there."

"You will decide whether I am worthy," Sousuke finished for him and lifted his gaze from the throne and back to his most precious friend. Dark brown eyes met stormy-blue, and he was only half-serious when he questioned, "Restoring the wrongs of the past wouldn't be feasible, I don't suppose."

Shigure's expression softened, both sympathetic and saddened, but for Sousuke's sake and not his own. "What you have lost cannot be gained, not at this moment. Your Shigure has already entered his new life and is out of your reach."

The overlord swallowed thickly. "I suspected as much," he replied with a faint sigh and climbed the final steps, standing before the throne. "It is just as well. Shigure would not have liked this version of me. What I had to become to get this far."

Smiling gently, the avatar merely gestured towards the dust-covered chair, representing everything Sousuke had worked so hard to obtain. "You have earned this chance, Aizen Sousuke. Take it while you can."

And this time, he did not hesitate. The world itself was inviting him to try his luck, and Sousuke was not going to deny it.

With a final step, brimming with resolve, Aizen turned, caught a brief glimpse of the others as they looked on with belief in their eyes. And lowered himself into the throne.

* * *

a/n:For those of us not Japanese inclined, _aniue_ means elder brother and _otouto _means younger/little brother. Thought I should include that.

Annnd, that's all there is for part one. Another cliffhanger. Hah hah! So I keep you hooked! There's still one more part to go.

Also, immediately following will be a side piece to round things out. I do hope you enjoyed!


	37. At World's End Part II

**Title: At World's End**

**Characters: Everybody and their brother just about**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: Spoilers, Character Death (though if you weathered The Twilight Hour you should be fine), Language, boykisses  
**

**Words: 4,435**

**Description: The dust settles, the earth quiets, and the results of Aizen Sousuke's ascension become clear to all. **

**AN: Vaguely refers to **_**Seireitei Monogatari**_** drabble 80.**

* * *

Ichigo blinked, looking around pointedly. Urahara was still holding his breath as if waiting for something miraculous to occur, and Gin's hand had tightened in his. All three of them had seen Aizen sit on the throne.

And all three of them had seen absolutely nothing happen.

The teenager blinked, furrowing his brow. "Well, that was anti-climatic," he muttered, disappointed that nothing more telling had occurred.

"Quite," the shopkeeper agreed and lifted one hand to thumb at his chin. "I expected fireworks at least." There was a hint of amusement to his tone, though worry was in his eyes.

The press of reiatsu in the air, the feeling of an ancient power was still rising. Nearly breathtaking.

"Angels singin'," Gin chimed in, twisting his jaw in his own brand of confusion. "Big halos of light."

"Or even a freakin' burst of lightning." Ichigo gestured with his free hand towards the throne. "Not... nothing."

None of them wanted to say aloud what they feared. That the world had rejected their leader and the lack of response was proof of it. Out of all of them, it seemed that Aizen would be the most likely to be accepted. They didn't want to think that everything they had been fighting for was pointless.

Urahara took a step towards the throne, hat pulled so far forward that his eyes were almost completely hidden. It was then that the room swelled with so much power that it sent even the three of them to their knees, completely swamping their reiatsu, and the blond suffered the worst of it; he didn't have the dark swell of a Hollow's energy helping him. Benihime dropped from his nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor as the blond gasped for breath.

Despite the pain and the pressure, Kisuke still felt a sense of relief and victory. This wasn't a rejection; this was acceptance. The world had chosen Aizen Sousuke.

He forced his head upwards, trying to see his dearest friend and yanking off his hat so that it wouldn't obscure his vision. Behind him, Gin was murmuring to Ichigo, the latter struggling as he tried to balance his mixed Shinigami and Hollow reiatsu. They would be fine, despite the warmth of the blanketing reiatsu, and Sousuke...

Sousuke sat perfectly still on the throne, though his hands were a white-knuckled grip on the arms. His eyes had pinched closed, and he breathed harshly, little short and gasping breaths. As Kisuke watched, he swore he could see little tendrils of spirit energy in all shades – green, brown, blue, black, red, too many to name – creeping across the floor. Sinuously winding their way to the throne, merging as they crept over his flesh until his body was surrounded by a halo.

There was a flex of power, like an outpouring wave of blinding white light that smacked into Urahara, stealing his breath. It was both warm and cold, making him shiver as his fingers scraped at the dust-covered stone. And then, the temple itself started to rumble, shaking and causing bits of stone and dust to drop from the ceiling.

Kisuke's mouth dropped as a flood seemed to sweep into the area. Before his eyes, the temple disintegrated, sinking back into the earth. The cobwebs and grime that vanished, and gleaming silver appeared beneath the dirt. The dais rose up several more levels as Sousuke sat upon it, adding more stairs. The reiatsu was less pressing now, though heavily present, and Urahara struggled to his feet and blinked as everything around him began to alter. To rise and fall, shift in shape, brighten. The temple sank into the ground, and beneath his feet, the stone shifted to a field of thick grass. Sunlight poured down on them, bright and warming as the grey clouds dispersed, glimpses of bright blue peeking through.

Kisuke whirled to track the changes, a sense of elation striking his heart. In the distance, the temples were all sinking into the ground, vegetation springing up in their place. The concealing fog had vanished to be replaced by flowering trees and scattered benches. And behind Sousuke, springing up in a semi-circle, a building began to take shape, formed from absolute thin air.

_No!_ Formed from spirit particles, just like in Seireitei.

Stone swelled and carved, forming windows without glass, and a stage took shape. The name of the structure rose in Kisuke's mind.

An amphitheater.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"What is this?" Ichigo demanded, sucking in a heavy breath as he forcefully shoved himself to his feet by willpower alone. His body shook under the strain and weight, but he refused to witness this cowering on the floor.

"Heaven," Kisuke breathed, too awed to bother with mysteriousness. "It's shifting to reflect him. It's _becoming_ his world."

The smile on Gin's face was rare indeed, one of true happiness rather than faint derision. "He succeeded," the man said unnecessarily, though somehow the words managed to have an echoing ring to them. "Aizen-taichou's a king now."

"Not just a king," Kisuke returned with a mischievous twinkle to his eyes. "_The_ king. _Our king._"

Beneath his feet, the earth gradually settled, the last of the spirit particles shifting into place, leaving them standing in a world that seemed brand new. Freshly made with an untouched start. Blue skies and open fields, a large amphitheater, and Sousuke's throne rising above it all. He still sat upon it.

The debilitating press of reiatsu became more manageable, and Urahara was able to stand fully, Ichigo and Gin doing much the same behind him. All three stood in awe of the sudden changes Aizen's ascension had wrought. And then, the shopkeeper's eyes flicked back to the overlord-now-king, opening his mouth to speak.

But Ichigo beat him to it. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded in typical Ichigo-fashion, brushing bits of debris from the folds of his clothing.

Upon his throne, Aizen smirked, his gaze falling on them and glimmering with achievement. He seemed entirely unchanged were it not for the depth to his brown eyes now. A dark glimmer of power that rippled beneath the surface, seeming bottomless. He lifted his fingers where they rested on the arm of his throne, and Kisuke swore he saw electricity crackle between his skin and the wood.

The lord – no, the _king_ – looked as if he were about to respond until his eyes flicked past his allies and beyond. The three men turned, catching sight of a Shinigami standing behind them. Not just any Shinigami, but the captain of the second division, Soifon herself. Outrage clearly outlined her features, though she looked a little worse for wear. Captain's haori completely gone and rips in her hakama.

Somehow, it didn't surprise Kisuke that she would be the first to find them. Undoubtedly, Soifon had trailed them from the start but at a far enough distance that none of them would have noticed.

Her face twisted into something furious, eyes narrowing. And Soifon slowly drew her zanpakutou, needing no words to convey her intent.

"_Jinteki shakusetsu_, Suzumebachi," Soifon hissed, reiatsu swelling around her as she attempted to slide into shikai.

Aizen's lips pulled into a gesture of amusement. He focused his gaze on the second division captain, and without a word, she dropped, knees striking the soft, springy grass. Horror and fury flickered onto her face as her zanpakutou slipped from her fingers and rolled uselessly off to the side.

Soifon tracked the movement with her eyes, reaching for the zanpakutou, which seemed to rock away from her hand as though it had a mind of its own. "Why won't you listen to me?" the captain demanded, and if there was a shrill touch to her voice, no one commented on it.

For the first time, Kisuke began to understand the true depth of the power Aizen had inherited.

"Every subject knows to obey his king." Sousuke's smooth voice poured over the open expanse, amused and lofty. "Your zanpakutou is no exception."

The look of unrelenting horror on Soifon's face almost made Kisuke laugh. She reached for a zanpakutou that refused to listen to her and couldn't manage to rise to her feet. It was truly a situation in which she could do nothing.

Sousuke seemed to share his amusement as he tipped his head to the side and lifted his fingers in only a small movement. There was the subtle sense of power rising, drifting over them like an air current. It felt as if it were trying to pull him towards the empty grass clearing that stretched out in front of the raised dais.

He turned, watching as Aizen's reiatsu stirred and mixed with a much older, deeper power. And then, to his shock and amazement, the air seemed to ripple above the empty plains. Like a heat mirage in the middle of summer, indistinct and hazy. Seconds later, a bevy of Shinigami appeared in the midst of the field, many stumbling in place as they took in the sudden change of position from wherever they had been to here.

Standing several feet before the crowd of Shinigami was Yamamoto-soutaichou himself. He held his posture strong and with dignity, hands crossed over the head of his staff. His gaze seemed for Aizen alone, proud and arrogant. He certainly didn't look the part of a man who had been utterly defeated in almost every way possible.

Aizen met his gaze, and for a moment, something flickered across the king's expression. He rose to his feet, his words dropping like a command that could not be ignored.

"On your knees."

Without a sound, without hesitation, the gathered Shinigami abruptly dropped. The sound of their knees striking the thick grass echoed through the vastness of Heaven, tolling like the sound of victory. And try as they might, the few who reached for their zanpakutou found that they wouldn't respond. Kisuke could see the horror in their expressions, mirroring what Soifon had already come to learn.

They were just now beginning to realize how utterly defeated they truly were.

Yamamoto was no less affected. He too had fallen to his knees, though he had given great effort to resist the command. Sweat dotted his forehead, and his hands remained locked around his staff, which now towered over his head. His eyes held nothing but anger, glimmering deeply with surging hate.

Aizen watched them as they silently glared, looking all indignant for their loss. "You have a choice," he began, his allies moving to the base of his throne, Kisuke standing to one side of him and Gin to the other with Ichigo just a handsbreadth away. "You can accept me as the rightful king and help create a new Soul Society. Or you can give up your Shinigami abilities and be content to an existence without them."

He was no idle murderer, after all. He couldn't fault any of the Shinigami for protecting themselves and their home. They did what they had to do as did he. He would let them live. With some stipulations of course. He couldn't have former enemies retaining their abilities; it would create unnecessary conflict.

Out of the crowd of defeated Shinigami, there was a burble of discontent. "That's tyranny!" a voice protested, indistinguishable from the rest.

"Madness!" another claimed.

"You're no better than the corruption you're claiming to cleanse."

Kisuke stepped forward, gesturing to the throne behind him. "The world has chosen him. That is _absolute_. You can't deny that."

Silence fell at his statement as they tried to refute the truth. But there was no denying Kisuke's words. Aizen had been sitting on the throne. Heaven had changed to reflect him. And the power emanating from his form was incontestable. He _was_ the king whether they liked it or not.

"Your zanpakutou are mine now," Aizen added, moving to step down from the throne. As he did, it shifted beneath his touch and formed stairs that would allow him to descend. "They will refuse to work against their king. The reiatsu that creates your very lives--" He paused to lift a hand, twining his fingers around some invisible force. "--is under my command. Until the world decides otherwise, I am your king. You've no choice but to accept it."

A ripple of discontent spread around the gathered Shinigami, many trading uncomfortable glances and mutinous glares. His feet finally touching the ground, Aizen moved to stand before them, looking down at his former enemies. They returned the gaze with rage and rebellion.

"You will destroy the balance," the old man finally stated, voice echoing onerously through the changed heaven. "You will cause both the living world and Soul Society to fall, destroying everything."

The king tilted his chin. "If that were true, then the world would not have chosen me at all. Perhaps it is simply that you are ashamed that a man such as I would be selected, long before your vaunted royal family."

Yamamoto's lips thinned, jaw tightening with his anger. "Your reign will not last, Aizen Sousuke. I will find way to bring you down."

"I almost think that I would look forward to that," Aizen replied simply, something warning in his tone. "But that would only bring strife that Soul Society does not need."

"That you caused the most of it does not seem to faze you, Aizen." Yamamoto's gruff tone spoke no quarter. He would not back down, and he would not surrender. He was making that perfectly clear.

Aizen clucked his tongue, shaking his head as the onlookers continued to watch the power play between the two very herculean men. No one seemed fit to comment or interfere, knowing it was a battle they had no place stepping between. Even Kisuke was stunned into silence, simply watching the two men with breathless anticipation.

"The strife started long before I was born. Even you should know that. Can I be blamed for being the only one attempting to fix it?"

Gnarled fingers clenched around the head of his zanpakutou-come-staff. "We are justice," Yamamoto stated with absolute finality. "We are the guardians of the afterlife. Sacrifices on occasion--"

"--need to be made. Yes, I know. I have heard such drivel before." Aizen's jaw hardened, his eyes turning firm and merciless. "I'm sure you spouted the same garbage before committing Shigure to death. And to others, who lost their life for the sake of Seireitei's false peace and justice."

"Then, this is just revenge. How petty."

Brown eyes narrowed, even as energy crackled behind them, weaving up and around Aizen's body as though he were composed entirely of power. "Revenge would involve me driving my zanpakutou through you without any hesitation and at this very moment. But I have always sought something more. And if your justice were so pure, then the world would not have chosen me in the first place. It wouldn't have even needed to do so."

An eyebrow twitched, the old bastard falling silent under Aizen's absolute truth. He was defeated, and he knew it, but his warrior's pride would not let him accept it until the absolute end. When there were no other paths left for him to take.

"You are defeated." Aizen rose to his full height. And with the sun shining directly behind him, wreathing him in an ethereal glow, he looked even more the part of a king. "Wholly and completely. Drop your sword."

It wasn't so much a command as it was a suggestion. Aizen was giving him the opportunity to do so of his own accord rather than force Yamamoto to cease hostilities. Dark eyes warred with Aizen's, determined to the last. And then, gnarled fingers – still containing an absurd amount of strength – uncurled around the head of his staff and let his zanpakutou drop, falling to the side in front of him.

"Your victory is only temporary," the captain-commander claimed steadily, expression unflinching. "We will not be forgotten."

It was unclear to those watching, just who he meant. But Aizen seemed to understand, inclining his head in acceptance of Yamamoto's words.

He gestured briefly to the zanpakutou before the old man, gaze betraying nothing. "You should do the honorable thing, soutaichou," he replied solidly. "If indeed, you have the courage within you to do so."

Another ripple of discontent surged in the crowd of Shinigami, but at a single look from Aizen, they were silenced. Whether it was because of the massive amount of reiatsu surging from his form or if he had given some inner command, Urahara wasn't certain.

He gave Yamamoto another searching glance before stepping around the captain-commander and focusing his gaze on the other Shinigami. He dismissed Yamamoto as though he were merely nothing, unworried for his own safety. The old man was simply a defeated soldier, after all. Worthy of no more thought.

Silence had swept over the clearing, and because of it, the soft whisper of a blade being drawn from its sheath was all too loud.

Aizen didn't flinch, didn't pause in his footsteps. Not even when the sound of steel sinking into flesh followed by a low grunt, echoed behind him. The smell of blood was sharp and pungent on the fresh breeze as many of the Shinigami flinched but held their ground.

Pausing before them, the new king folded his arms behind his back, looking over the defeated appraisingly. For the first time, he addressed them directly.

"Now, my friends," he began, voice even as reiatsu trickled from the ground and wove around his frame in visible tendrils. "You have been given your choice. I do hope that you will join me in the creation of a new, better Soul Society."

* * *

"What're ya thinkin'?"

Gin's voice pulled Ichigo from his thoughtful reverie, and he frowned. "I was just thinking that Aizen's too powerful, you know. Too god-like." Ichigo shook his head. "And then, I realized… Well, duh, that's 'cause he is a god now. The king."

He felt Gin's gaze fall on him, almost searchingly. Unconsciously, Ichigo's hand found itself seeking out his lover, and he twined his fingers with the other man's much longer ones. He had been watching Aizen state his intentions, and he had watched as Yamamoto made his decision. He knew that he should be probably feeling something – grief, regret, anger – but instead, a part of Ichigo felt empty.

There was victory here, yes. But in many ways, it was hollow. That it should have to come to this was very regrettable. That Soul Society and Seireitei had become so corrupt that both needed to be rebuilt was unfortunate as well. Ichigo didn't feel sorry for what he had done, but in the face of the emotions racing across the Shinigami faces, he thought he understood for a moment.

Right or wrong didn't exist in war. Each side fought for what they believed in, risked their lives for their faith. He understood why in that moment, why Aizen had given the Shinigami a choice.

Gin's fingers squeezed his. "Ya see now, don't ya?"

"It wasn't that I doubted him," Ichigo replied, his gaze locked on the new king. "Or his intentions. I trust Aizen."

"I know tha'." Gin pulled him closer, settling his chin on Ichigo's shoulder as he too watched Aizen speak to the throng of defeated soldiers. "But it wasn't so long ago that ya wondered wha' Aizen really meant ta do."

His lover had a point. Once, long ago, right after he had decided to skip off to Hueco Mundo, he had wondered what Aizen's purpose had been. And though he had accepted his place in Las Noches and had found himself fighting for Aizen's side, there had always been a small part of him that wondered. He should have hated the Shinigami, but he didn't want to see them die. Many had been his friends. And many had been told lies, cloaked entirely from the truth.

Ichigo nodded in agreement and shifted his attention back to their allies, who were watching the proceedings with various emotions. Stark looked to be near asleep on his feet, bored by the events as he leaned on Halibel's shoulder. Behind them in a cluster and speaking in low tones were their fraccion, headed by Tesla.

A short distance away Barragan was studying his nails, looking a mite worse for wear but otherwise alive. It was almost a pity. Ichigo didn't really like the third Espada that much. And it appeared his sentiment was shared by most of his friends.

Ukitake-san, strangely enough, was standing on their side, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Grief was evident in his dark eyes, which had only left that of his mentor to watch his best friend in the crowd of Shinigami. Kira was next to him, tending to a wound on the elder Shinigami's arm. And Ishida was—

Ichigo's mouth dropped.

Was he kissing Szayel? Or scratch that because it seemed to be the other way around. Szayel had both gloved hands wrapped around Ishida's face, bringing their lips together in a way that made even Ichigo feel embarrassed. Well, that was certainly one way to celebrate their victory. And frankly, he didn't know if he should congratulate the two or tell them to get a room.

Wisely averting his eyes, Ichigo continued scanning. But he didn't see Nel anywhere. Or Ulquiorra and Grimmjow for that matter. They were conspicuously absent. In fact, the only other one from their side that he noticed was Yoruichi, who was stepping up beside Urahara and speaking in a low tone.

Ichigo felt something like cold dread settle in his belly. "Gin," he whispered, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. "Where's Nel?"

In answer, a hand slid around his waist, pulling him back into Gin's embrace. "Aizen-taichou's th' king now," his lover said by way of answer, voice quiet. "All th' power of the world's at his disposal."

"Grimmjow is missing, too," Ichigo added and felt his fingers tighten around Gin. "And Ulquiorra. I can't even sense them. They're _not_ here." Realization trickled over him with dizzying speed.

"I know." Gin's hand was a warm comfort around him. "We'll get them back. Aizen-taichou'll make sure of it."

Somehow, that didn't serve to comfort Ichigo. He believed in Aizen's abilities, but it still didn't seem possible to raise the dead. That had to be the only reason they weren't present. Someone, a Shinigami, had killed them.

Ichigo's heart ached with the thought of losing Nel, the small Espada one of his dearest friends. And Grimmjow, who was his sort-of friend. Or Ulquiorra, who kind of respected him. He truly hoped that Gin was right, that Aizen could bring them back. It didn't seem a victory without them.

Gathering up his strength, he searched the sea of familiar faces amongst the Shinigami. It served him little delight to see that several were missing there as well. It seemed both sides had lost in the conflict. But that didn't ease his pain in the slightest.

"Believe in 'im," Gin murmured against his ear.

And really, Ichigo couldn't argue. Believing in Aizen had gotten him this far. There really was no reason to stop now. The war was over; victory had been found. And Ichigo had discovered his place. _Finally_.

He smiled faintly, eyes searching out Aizen's form. The king was finishing his speech to the beaten Shinigami. But there was something beside him, a form dressed in a dark blue yukata and barefoot of all things. Ichigo blinked, trying to focus on the hazy image. It didn't seem to be a real person, not with the way Ichigo could see right through him.

The brunet turned towards him, facing Ichigo's direction, a grin splitting his face. There was a sense of ageless wisdom in stormy eyes, which seemed to focus unerringly on Ichigo. It sent a shiver up his spine, thought not one of dread. Nor was it unpleasant. Just there.

Even as he watched the image seemed to shimmer, to change form. Brown hair shifted to longer locks of a subtle orange, the body turning shapelier, womanly. And merry eyes twinkled at him, set in a most familiar face. Ichigo's jaw dropped as he saw what could have only been his mother gazing back at him. Masaki smiled in the same way that he remembered, and Ichigo felt his heart give a little clench.

"Kaa-san..." The title slipped from his lips before he could stop it, barely above a whisper.

Gin stirred behind him. "Ichigo?"

But he wasn't even listening, too busy watching his mother's form. It appeared to shimmer, wavering in the bright sunlight. And then, she lifted a hand to her lips, as if shushing him. He raised his hand, perhaps thinking to reach for her. But Masaki only winked at him like they shared some special secret and abruptly vanished.

"Ichigo?"

He jumped a little, shaking his head, even as he stared at the spot where his mother had been standing.

"Nothing," Ichigo assured his lover as he blinked and saw her afterimage on his closed lids. "It's nothing."

And yet, he was so sure it was something because nothing wouldn't leave him with a warmth inside.

He forced himself to add, "Aizen's talking again."

He felt Gin give him a strange look, but he wisely didn't press further. Ichigo would explain later in greater detail after he'd processed it. But for now, he savored the image. She had looked so happy and well...

"The time for fighting amongst ourselves has passed," Aizen was saying with an almost grandiose gesture. He half-turned, facing both the Shinigami and his own allies. "From now on, we work together."

He smiled, a surge of reiatsu seeming to accompany his words. It trickled over Ichigo's feet, and judging from the expressions on the faces of others, they felt it, too. It was as if something had awakened for the first time after many long years of sleeping. Waiting patiently for something to break its slumber. And that something, that _someone_, had finally come.

Aizen lowered his hands, and his voice filled the clearing to echo around them. "Our new world has come."

Behind Ichigo, Gin chuckled. "Just like Aizen-taichou to make some sort of grand statement. Come on, Ichi. Let's go congratulate 'im."

Stifling his own sound of amusement, Ichigo merely nodded in agreement. Their new world had come indeed.

It was about damn time.

* * *

a/n: I know. I know. I didn't answer anything, did I? Well, I did a bit. But some things are left pretty vague. That was done on purpose. Some was being saved for the eventual sequel.

That's right. I said sequel. Eventually, it will come to pass, and it will be called "After Dark". It won't be anytime soon as I haven't even started it, but I do have plans for it. Eventually.

But, Minutes to Midnight is not over yet! There's still another piece entitled "Ripples" that I have to post next, which takes place during the events of At World's End. And there are several side pieces that I still have to write and slip in here, taking place at various times during the series. But the main story is complete.

I do hope you enjoyed!


	38. Ripples The Living World

**Title: Ripples (The Living World)**

**Characters: The Karakura Crew, Zennosuke, The Urahara Shouten**

**Rating: K**

**Warning: Spoilers**

**Words: 3825**

**Description: The worlds are connected, and when Aizen ascends, the results are felt everywhere. **

**Placement: Takes place between the first and second part of _At World's End_.  
**

* * *

Something had been tugging at the end of her senses all day. A feeling. A thought. And Tatsuki hadn't been able to place it. Whatever it was, it kept her on alert, feeling stretched thin. She watched the sky. and she couldn't concentrate. She wished that someone was there to answer her questions.

And when a sense of power suddenly swelled, she felt it in her spine. Everyone noticed when she stood in the middle of the street and stared up at the sky, mouth agape. She swore that the blue and the clouds flickered, like a heat mirage over asphalt. And something settled brightly inside her.

The unknown sensation crawled over her skin in pleasing tingles, warm and welcoming. It filled her with a sense of hope, and somehow, Tatsuki just knew. It had something to do with Ichigo; she was sure of it. Even though she hadn't seen her childhood friend – he or Orihime – in more than a year's time.

A car honked, and she started out of her reverie and moved quickly to the sidewalk with an apologetic look on her face. It passed, the driver giving her a look of confusion, but Tatsuki barely noticed. She was too occupied by the tree in the yard of some stranger.

It was green. No, not just green. Utterly vibrant. Filled with life and blossoming from nearly every branch. Funny, but she'd passed this tree every day in her usual route from home to school and back again. In seventeen years, she'd never once seen the damn thing so much as sprout a single blossom. And here, it was. Vibrant.

"Did you hear?"

A voice from behind her, tone slightly echoing. She whirled to find another ghost standing there. A lost spirit. She'd been seeing more of those lately. The chain hanging from the boy's chest swayed, and the metal tinkled.

Tatsuki was suspicious and glanced around. "Hear what?" she asked, wondering why she was humoring a spirit of all things. At least this one wasn't making out right in front of her.

And the ghost smiled at her, the first time she'd ever seen something so genuine and honest in the face of a dead person. "There's a new king," he said, body rippling and flickering, as though unable to decide whether to stay visible or not. "A new king. Do you know what that means?"

"No," she replied but was even more sure now. Ichigo had something to do with this. Somehow. He was always doing things like shaking up the world.

The ghostly kid laughed and danced in place, as if wanting to spin but not quite making it. "I don't either. But I'll bet it's good. Ya think so, nee-chan?"

"If Ichigo has anything to do with it, I can almost guarantee," Tatsuki replied with her own smile reflecting the spirit's enthusiasm. She didn't care that people were probably staring as she talked to nothing.

Maybe that meant they could come home now. That she could see Orihime again after worrying about her for so long. She could see Ichigo's scowling face again and ask Ishida to fix her gi for her since no one could get the stitches as tightly as he could. And Sado, he had been such a good sparring partner. She thought of the Kurosaki Clinic, growing dusty in their sudden absence, and the smiling faces of Ichigo's twin sisters.

Yeah, maybe they could all come back, and things would be normal again.

The boy grinned even wider. "Yep!" he agreed and then cocked his head at her, eyes becoming impish. "Say, do you know where I can find the nearest shrine?"

Tatsuki pointed him the right direction, and with a happy wave, the boy took off running, chain swinging back and forth. She hoped that some Shinigami came along before a Hollow did because no one deserved that fate.

Grinning to herself, Tatsuki looked up at the sky. It seemed to ripple back at her.

They were coming home for sure.

* * *

He'd been restless all day. More so than usual. Even his teachers had noticed. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he wasn't sleeping or teasing the girls or trying to poke Mizuiro in the back of the head.

Keigo couldn't explain it. He just knew something big was about to happen. It was a feeling that wriggled about in his stomach, like trying to catch a fish barehanded. Not that he ever had. By the time school let out, Keigo had a bunch of pent up energy inside of him. And nothing to do with it. Mizuiro didn't really seem to notice, just walking on as always.

Keigo thought it had something to do with those weird guests of his who had vanished all the sudden. Or with Ichigo, who had also disappeared without so much as a goodbye. Che. Some friend. Or Sado and Ishida and Orihime – Oh, the lovely bosoms of mountainous joy! – they had all vanished without saying anything to him. And he didn't like it one bit.

Contrary to popular belief, Keigo wasn't exactly stupid, just lazy and not really inclined to do much unless it interested him. He noticed these things. Who wouldn't notice four of their friends abruptly up and leaving without any knowledge of their destination. The teachers didn't find it odd; their classmates didn't find it weird. But Keigo did, and sometimes, when Tatsuki looked at him, he knew that she found it weird, too.

Anyway, he was walking home with Mizuiro, still feeling that weird twisting in his belly, when something finally broke. He couldn't explain it. There was a massive pouring of power that traveled up his legs to the roots of his hair, and it nearly took his breath away. It tried to crush him to the pavement, but it was so brief and didn't last. And Keigo stood there gasping, wondering what the hell had happened.

He had the urge to look up and found nothing but normal sky and clouds. Mizuiro was staring at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so weird _again_, and Keigo didn't have an explanation. Something had happened; he just wished he knew what.

"_**It's terrible!" **_

The voice came from nowhere, as did the following cry of surprise and the body that landed on top of Keigo. Now, he was flattened to the concrete with something heavy sitting on top of him. It wriggled. and a foot landed in the center of his back.

"It's absolutely terrible," the man continued, sounding two steps away from a fit of epic proportions.

Keigo moaned and twitched. He hurt.

Mizuiro wasn't even fazed, just looking at the newcomer and waiting for Keigo to pick himself up off the ground. "What's terrible?"

"The world, it's coming to an end," the stranger explained.

Keigo blinked, pushing himself up and pinning a bleary gaze on the man. Dark clothes and a sword. Ah, that cosplayer dude. Who was always acting out stuff. What was his name? Keigo couldn't remember; it was filed under the rather unimportant stuff.

Cocking his head to the side, Mizuiro displayed a lot of patience. "How's that, Zennosuke-san?"

Ah, that was his name. Kami, Keigo hurt. It felt as if the man had landed on him. Which, consequently, he had. Maybe he should go to the doctor?

"It's just terrible!" Zennosuke wailed and went running down the street, leaving the two students to gape after him.

Mizuiro blinked. "That was rude."

"My head hurts," Keigo groaned and considered passing out then and there. He just wished he knew what was terrible. And what had happened.

Idly, he thought that Ichigo must have had something to do with it. Ichigo was always causing trouble. And he still got good grades. Che.

* * *

He was out shopping because he had nothing better to do, and they couldn't really trust Inoue to do it. They never knew what she would bring back. Yuzu was willing to do it, but Sado didn't want the little girl wandering unfamiliar streets. She couldn't protect herself like he could, and Sado had promised Ichigo he would watch over his little sisters.

His senses had been tingling all day. There was a feeling of battle in the air, of expectation. They'd received news that the final assault on Seireitei was going to take place soon. At least, that was what Kurosaki-san had said. That probably explained why his arm ached and why he felt his power swirling in his chest.

Sado wanted to be up there with Ichigo. He wanted to be fighting alongside the others. By Ishida and his best friend. He knew that he had another purpose here, to watch over Ichigo's precious family and Inoue, but he still wondered who would watch Ichigo's back for him. Ichigo's letters never really said much.

When the first tendrils of power curled across Sado's senses, he half-turned expecting some sort of Hollow to be in the general area. But there was nothing, not even the slightest hint of one. Just the wind and the passing populace, all going about their normal lives as if nothing had changed.

The power struck again, a heavy reiatsu that seemed to completely swamp him. There was the sense that reality had changed. Things would never be the same again. He felt his own power flickering within him, answering the call with a polite surge. His fingers twitched.

He didn't recognize the main bulk of the reiatsu, but on the edge of it, something was familiar. He'd know that heated press of power, which spoke of determination and recklessness, anywhere. He'd always know Ichigo.

He paused in the middle of the crowd and tipped his head back, looking up at the sky. Sado half-expected to see something tangible, such as the sky ripping open or power to spark across like lightning in a thunderstorm. A cloud lazily drifted by, obscuring the sun for all of a moment before bathing them in the full force of its rays once more.

And yet, Sado's entire body thrummed with energy and possibility. He could feel it pouring through his veins and his hand tingled. He had the urge to summon _Brazo Derecha de Gigante_; he thought that he felt stronger.

Only one thing could possibly explain it.

The battle had already begun, and Ichigo had proved victorious. Not that Sado would have believed otherwise. Ichigo had a talent for making the impossible possible and proving sheer stubborn willpower could defeat all odds.

Sado lifted his right hand, clenched and unclenched his fist and watched the motion. He felt the power flowing through him. Maybe he was strong enough now. Maybe.

And Sado smiled.

* * *

'_It has begun_,' the voice had whispered in the back of Isshin's mind late last night or early this morning depending on how one looked at it. His zanpakutou had woken him from a deep sleep to let him know what he'd already figured.

After that, Isshin couldn't sleep. He felt restless, on edge. His senses were stirring, and his zanpakutou was distracted.

He roamed around the house, doing menial things and half-completing other tasks. All the while, his senses were somewhere else, watching a battle he wasn't taking part in. He worried about his son and his friends; he worried for the outcome. It wasn't that he didn't believe in their victory, but things could happen. Things no one could anticipate.

He knew when Aizen used the key because he had felt it. His zanpakutou gave a shiver of recognition, and Isshin took that moment to stop pacing the house. He shed his gigai and climbed onto the roof, standing and studying the sky. Without the enclosing nature of the fake body, it was more telling. Power rippled through him, stirring something that he long thought he would never regain fully.

Isshin could feel it in the air that the spirit world was hovering on a precipice. His soul longed to follow the tugging of the key's use, but it was grounded to the earth. He could only watch and wait, feeling as if his every breath was caught in his throat.

He felt it when the power started to gather, when it curled and twisted in the air, pulling unconsciously towards some unknown location. It was as if the whole world around him had taken one great breath, swelling and pulling at his senses. His zanpakutou thrummed at his side, vibrating with desire to join whatever was going on in that other world. Humming in sync with a beat only the most sensitive could hear.

The sun crept higher and higher in the sky, past the harsh heat of noon and heading towards early evening. The sky remained blue, and for all that, it seemed so unchanged.

Until Isshin was suddenly filled with an unusual urge to laugh. Not out of an emotion he felt, but one that his zanpakutou echoed. An urge that was borne out of happiness and celebration, rather than amusement.

'_God has been chosen_,' his zanpakutou whispered in his ear. '_A new world has been born_.'

The words didn't make sense. Isshin didn't know anything about what was supposed to happen when someone sat on the throne. No one did since it was such an unprecedented event. But he knew, somehow, that Aizen Sousuke had been chosen by their world, that he'd become the god they were all waiting for. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been feeling a sense of great victory.

"Sousuke, you sly dog," Isshin had murmured to himself, grin stretching his lips as he balanced his hands on his hips. He looked up at the sky and half-imagined he could see Seireitei and heaven just beyond the blue. "You did it."

"What are you doing up there?" Karin's voice floated up to him, shouting from where she stood at the front of their home and on the sidewalk. Yuzu stood at her side and waved up at her father.

Chuckling to himself, Isshin leapt down, his shihakushou a familiar weight around his body. "Just admiring the view." He grinned broadly.

Karin eyed him suspiciously, lifting one brow. "Ichi-nii won, huh?" she returned instead, crossing her arms over her chest.

He should have known that they would have felt something as well. Ichigo might be the one with all the spiritual power at the moment, but Isshin didn't doubt that his daughters would find some of their own as well. He _was_ their father, after all.

"We could feel it," Yuzu added, eyes filled with so much hope. "Didn't you?"

Isshin grinned, reaching out and pulling his daughters into a tight hug, despite Karin's initial resistance and neighbors who were probably staring in wonder. He ruffled one hand over Karin's hair and squeezed Yuzu tightly.

"Yeah," he responded, able to feel the changes in the air like a tangible presence. "I felt it."

* * *

It was a beautiful, small town. Somewhere close enough to the sea that she could smell the salty air and occasionally see a seagull pass overhead. Orihime wasn't exactly sure where it was, but Yoruichi had assured her that Soul Society wouldn't be able to find them there. Something about their reach being limited in this area.

When she was restless, Orihime often wandered the quaint streets, taking in the sights and the friendly faces of the strangers. She was restless often, she noticed. She missed her friends in Karakura; she missed Kurosaki-kun. She even missed Ishida-kun, who had left to join Aizen in Hueco Mundo along with Hanatarou-kun. It felt strange to be separated from them, and it bothered her that all those friends she made in Soul Society had turned on her. That Toushirou-kun would plot to do such a horrible thing.

She thought in that moment that she understood what everyone felt when Aizen had suddenly turned on them. Betrayal stung heavily, and it weighed on a person, even long after the traitors had stepped into the light.

Passing by a street vendor, Orihime bought some kind of iced, fruity drink and took it to a nearby bench, sitting underneath a tree. It was already green, flowers just beginning to peek from their buds. Everything seemed so peaceful, which was a direct contrast to the madness swirling beyond her senses.

And that had driven her to her restless wandering of the lovely town. It started early that morning, a prickling on the edge of her skin. A sense that something was happening, and it had bothered her enough that she had risen from bed earlier than usual.

She had almost sworn that she could see things shifting around her. That reiatsu was swirling and condensing, forming a tangible presence. The back of her neck itched as though someone watched her. And Shun Shun Rikka was restless, too. The fairies occasionally popping out on their own to mumble something incoherent before returning to her hairpins.

Everyone else was acting strangely, too. Kurosaki-san looked to the distance, his brow furrowed as though concentrating on something. And Sado-kun had taken to pacing the house before finally deciding to do something with his energy and heading out for groceries. Yuzu-chan and Karin-chan were quieter than usual. Everyone seemed to be waiting, their senses attuned to what their eyes couldn't see.

Orihime sipped at her drink, hardly tasting the sweet concoction as she focused inwardly. It was like watching a play, one complete with musical and dancing numbers. Right now was the rising crescendo, a fierce mélange of noise and battle, strong wills clashing. She didn't know why her senses were so keyed, but she swore she could feel them.

Kurosaki-kun and Ishida-kun, fighting against high-leveled opponents. And Urahara-san, so close to Aizen-san, who was expelling huge amounts of reiatsu. Yoruichi-san was fighting as well, but Orihime didn't recognize who she battled against. Although there was a faint flicker nearby, like the taste of spring flowers. And Ukitake-san was a sweeping rush of water against the bright blaze of the captain-commander, Ichimaru-san a flowing and elusive presence intermixed with theirs.

She felt the Espada as well, their darker energies pulsing against the lighter energies of the Shinigami. She felt those that were snuffed out, and they tugged at her heart. She recognized several people that she had known. Hisagi-san and Rangiku-san. She had even felt when the busty woman had fallen to Kira-kun. It just... didn't seem right for lack of a better word.

Orihime really hated war.

If Kurosaki-kun hadn't asked her to stay here and protect his sisters, she would have joined them. Surely, they would be in need of her healing abilities. And maybe she couldn't fight like the others, but she still could have helped. Yet, Orihime had promised, and she was determined to keep that promise, even if she could do nothing else.

But she felt it then, an abrupt shift in the flow of reiatsu that had been swirling around her. Where it had been turbulent and eddying, it now formed a steady current. It grew stronger and stronger, blending entirely with Aizen-san's power. She knew it was his thanks to her time previously spent in Hueco Mundo. She had remembered his reiatsu as being very overpowering but with a refined sense of delicacy. Half the time, she never even realized it was there until he lost control for a second, however brief it might have been.

Her fingers flexed around her cup, but Orihime didn't see it. All she could sense was the reiatsu, twisting and churning, flowing into one huge stream. There was the sensation of change, of a lock clicking into place. It settled with such finality that there was no untangling the permanently enmeshed threads. As if everything were coming together for the first time in a long time. Perhaps ever.

Sitting there on that bench, Orihime felt her lips curl into a smile. It had happened. She could only surmise that Aizen-san had taken the throne. She had felt nothing like this before. Not when Rukia had been on the Soukyoku or when Kurosaki-kun invoked his Hollow abilities. Not when Aizen-san had released his reiatsu in Las Noches.

They had won; she knew it with every part of herself. Kurosaki-kun and the others, they had won. And with that, she rose from the bench, tossing her unfinished drink in a trash bin before heading back towards the safe house.

* * *

Tessai knew from the very moment it happened. He and Ururu and Jinta had all known. Sitting down to tea in the main room, their senses locked and watching, they felt every last step in the battle.

It was almost as if they were there, what with the way the reiatsu stirred around them. The calls of Hollow had gone almost silent, as if they too were respecting the changes the spirit world was bringing. And Tessai had the strange urge to look to the sky, even though he knew it wouldn't grant him a view of what was occurring. It was hard to fight the desire, however, when it seemed the press of reiatsu was coming from the heavens.

It wasn't painful or debilitating, but it was definitely there. An annoying something beyond his sight that rolled over his skin like the tide. Unrelenting and full of an unfathomable depth.

"Che," Jinta muttered around his cup, tough exterior failing to the hide the worry he must have been harboring. "Always gotta do things with a bang."

"I think in this case, Jinta-kun, it is more Aizen-san's fault," Tessai corrected the young man. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if _he_ did have a hand in it."

Ururu smiled lightly, thinking of the man she considered to be her father. "He's having fun," she commented softly.

Tessai could only agree with her. It had been some time since he had seen his friend so animated, and he was glad that the boss had turned to Aizen-san's side.

"Things are going to be different now," Ururu continued, sipping at her tea with anticipation brimming around her. "We can go to Soul Society, right?"

"Hmph. Who'd wanna go there?" Jinta argued, just to be contrary. But he couldn't quite hide the eagerness in his expression.

Inclining his head, Tessai realized that both had a point. He thought of the place that had been his home, which he hadn't seen in so long. He thought of the position he once held and how it had been so swiftly ripped away. And he thought about how that didn't really matter anymore.

Aizen was king now. No doubt he would immediately remove their exile. He could go home for the first time in decades. He really could go home.

And a smile lifted Tessai's expression. "Yes, Ururu, we can all go now."

* * *

a/n: See? There is hope in the story! Lol. There's another part to this. The second half is from the point of view of those remaining in Hueco Mundo. I hope you enjoyed this part. See ya next week!


	39. Ripples Hueco Mundo

**Title: Ripples (Hueco Mundo)**

**Characters: Byakuya, Hanatarou, Hisagomaru, Rukia, Renji **

**Rating: K+**

**Warning: Spoilers**

**Words: 2,301**

**Description: The worlds are connected, and when Aizen Sousuke ascends, the results are felt everywhere.**

**Placement: Takes place during _At World's End_.  
**

* * *

Rationality reminded Byakuya why Las Noches was currently missing most of its usual residents. Aizen had made no secret of the fact that today was the day he planned on invading Seireitei and affecting his final battle. He didn't invite them to attend, not that Byakuya would have. In fact, he hardly cared. Except for the tiny part of him that fumed at his inability to join the battle on the proper side.

He was left surrounded by a white silence and loneliness. Neither bothered him as he had chosen the latter and was used to the former. His room was very much isolated from the others, and he had dismissed Rukia and Renji long before, unwilling to put up with their stilted lack of apologies. Byakuya preferred the emptiness around him to their attempts to convince him of their sort of nonsense.

He knew that Aizen was enacting his final plan only because he had been told. As it were, Byakuya couldn't and didn't feel a damn thing about it. He heard rumors and whispers from the hall that the Arrancar could feel something. There was a sense to the air, more like emotion or anticipation, but otherwise, he couldn't tell.

It bothered him immensely. He was shut off from everything, including Senbonzakura. The emptiness inside of him echoed with her loss. Silence never used to bother him before because he always had her. Now, it was too loud, too reverberant. It left him with nothing to do but think, trapped in his own thoughts.

And he'd be damned if he stooped himself to seeking out the company of others. The indignity he had suffered ensured he would stay far away from anyone who claimed to know him.

He sat in a chair by the single window, large enough that he could climb out if he wished. But Byakuya was no fool. Escape was the furthest thing from his mind. He was under no illusions that he would survive longer than a minute if he ventured beyond Las Noches. Then again, there was no certainty he would prove palatable to any Hollow. What with lacking any sense of reiatsu.

The white sands contrasted directly with the black night, and a single, pale moon watched over everything. Byakuya had studied it for weeks, but as near as he could tell, it didn't wax or wane. As if time itself had paused in Hueco Mundo, never moving forward, never moving back. Still and silent as a tomb. It made him wonder if the story he had been told truly carried some validity.

His curiosity couldn't be helped, Byakuya supposed. He wondered how the Shinigami were faring against Aizen and his forces, even as he knew that they must have been drastically outnumbered by this point. Byakuya could recognize that in attempting to ensure the safety of their future, they had made some grievous errors. Alienating Kurosaki Ichigo was one of them.

If Seireitei fell, then Byakuya surmised it would be due entirely to that one fatal mistake. He had never realized until now how deeply entwined in the lives of the Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo had become.

Byakuya wanted to believe that the captain-commander and the surviving members of the Gotei-13 would be able to overcome Aizen's forces. It was, however, a baseless belief. He might as well claim that he would wake up tomorrow with his spirit powers intact once more. Foolish.

Time passed in its usual dragging speed with Byakuya firmly ignoring all knocking on his door.

How long would the battle take? Would the world accept Aizen as its new king? And what would become of Seireitei? The Gotei-13? Himself, for that matter?

So many questions, and he couldn't even begin to formulate an answer.

Byakuya never felt the stirring of reiatsu that must have swept the world when that last step was finally taken. He didn't sense it in the same manner as those around him. But there was for an instant a twinge resounding through that empty spot in his chest.

And he thought for the barest of seconds that he might have even heard Senbonzakura calling.

* * *

Though it seemed impossible, Hanatarou was sleeping through most of it. Exhausted after helping Ichigo and Urahara recover to their full capacities before striking out against Seireitei, he slept through most of the day prior to the attack and pretty much all of the one during it. In fact, if it hadn't been for Hisagomaru, he wouldn't have known anything was happening at all.

It was in his dreams that his zanpakutou came to him, dragging him out of some imagination involving cotton candy and roller coasters and into the familiar grounds of his inner world. He lay on his back amongst a field, surrounded by the scent of herbs and fresh wind. The sun was a warm and gentle presence on his skin, but Hanatarou didn't open his eyes, preferring the illusion of sleep.

Besides, he knew without having to look what surrounded him. Acres upon acres of farmland, covered in miles of green vines. Sprouting from the greenery were copious amounts of vegetables: squashes, pumpkins, cucumbers, and melons. Buried amongst the larger growths were smaller plants, herbs of different varieties. In fact, the entire area reminded him of the fourth division with its herbal scent and healing atmosphere. It was apt and well-fitting.

Footsteps paused near his body. "You're missing out on the battle, Hana-kun," Hisagomaru stated, tone deceptively gentle.

"Eh heh," Hanatarou replied, wincing sheepishly. "I can't really fight anyway. So I did the best that I could do."

"Oh, it's admirable to be sure." There was a trace of amusement in Hisagomaru's words, voice sounding like something ancient. Though Hanatarou knew for a fact that his zanpakutou's spirit was very young. With eyes like the steely, sharp glint of a scalpel.

Hanatarou made a noncommittal sound in his throat, feeling lethargic. His reiatsu was a field of rice and waved unenergetically in the wind. He had expended himself more than he probably should have, and it showed. He didn't think he could even cast a low-level kidoh at this point, not that he would share that knowledge with Ichigo or Urahara-san.

He did feel, however, that there was something hovering on a precipice. The world hanging in precarious balance, waiting to be tipped to either side. It stirred his sluggish reiatsu and tried to make him rise from his recuperative sleep.

Something soft brushed across his forehead. "The fighting has stopped. The search begins. I wonder who will find the throne."

"Aizen-san, of course," Hanatarou replied without any hesitation. "Ichigo-san is helping him."

After all, he had absolute faith in Ichigo. Otherwise, he never would have taken that fateful road over a year ago.

He had the idea that Hisagomaru was looking to the sky, head cocked to the side. His inner world was practically thrumming with anticipation, and Hanatarou felt a little less tired.

"Of course," Hisagomaru agreed amusedly.

Hanatarou settled more comfortably into the soft, black earth, rich with nutrients and surrounded by an atmosphere that always scented of spring time. He thought he might have heard a battle, somewhere in the distance. The clashing of zanpakutou, the flash and pop of kidoh. The shouts and the clamor.

And then suddenly, there was a flash of pure power like a light across his vision. Hanatarou startled, right out of his inner world, right out of his dream. And directly into wakefulness, flailing about with little grace. His feet tangled in the sheets. With a wild cry, he tumbled off the side of the bed, landing shoulder first onto the floor. Which luckily wasn't far enough away to harm him.

He groaned. "Ah. I fell again," Hanatarou murmured to himself and heard Hisagomaru laughing at him from deep inside.

'_A king has been chosen_,' his zanpakutou told him, voice echoing from within.

Which probably explained the gradually lessening sensation of weakness. Smiling to himself, Hanatarou carefully began untangling his limbs from the sheets. He could feel it now, the stirring of the world's reiatsu. A pebble dropped into the center of a lake, sending out gentle ripples in all directions.

He thought in that moment of that day more than a year ago past, when he had heard something that would change everything. How strange that it should all eventually spiral to this moment. To a man who sat upon a throne. To manage to change _everything_, though only time would tell just how much.

'_Yeah, you did good, Hana-kun,_' Hisagomaru murmured at him, giving the impression of patting him on the head.

Climbing back into his bed because he was strangely both fatigued and energized, Hanatarou inclined his head in agreement, unable to stifle his yawn. He thought so, too. And with that, Hanatarou slipped back into sleep.

* * *

_Scritch. Scritch. Scrrrrape_.

"He's still pissed," Renji offhandedly commented, seemingly saving his entire focus for the half-finished block of wood in his hand. It was better than thinking about the sensations crawling across his skin in any case.

Rukia nodded faintly. "Nii-sama is very good at holding grudges," she agreed, distracted by the dissonance on the edge of her senses. She could all but feel the battle stirring through her veins and making Sode no Shirayuki tremble with restlessness.

"That fruity Espada disappeared, too," Renji added, more to fill the silence than any real desire for conversation. Especially about that particular Espada.

"Hmm." Her response was noncommittal as Rukia dropped her hand to Shirayuki's hilt, running her fingers restlessly over the familiar guard.

It was really bothering her, the sense of twisting reiatsu in the air. It was almost choking as it surrounded her. And by the look in Renji's eyes, unfocused and distant, he felt it, too.

She tipped her head to the side, as if listening to some melody only she could hear. "Would you have gone?" Rukia asked out of the blue, a question that she had been posing to herself many times over.

The sound of the knife raking over the wood abruptly ceased as Renji considered her query. "No," he finally answered and blew out a great breath as he slowly took up the whittling once more. "But I wouldn't 'xactly join Soul Society's side either. You?"

Sode no Shirayuki was a firm comfort beneath her fingers. "They were going to kill Ichigo," Rukia said softly, as though speaking the dark truth out loud made it that much more bearable. "And Inoue. Nii-sama once they realized what happened to him. Sado. Ishida. Everyone."

She paused as she felt something flicker against her skin, the press of reiatsu growing firmer and more noticeable. Sode no Shirayuki vibrated in her palm, and across the room, she watched Renji dip his fingers across Zabimaru's sheath. Surely, he was vibrating too, able to sense the edge that all of the world was hovering on.

Rukia let out a heavy breath, eyes darkening. "But I can't exactly condone Aizen either. Kaien's death... it was his fault. And Hisagi's scars. Hinamori's madness. The Hougyoku and what was done to me."

To say that she didn't honestly know who should win in the war for leadership of Soul Society would only be the half of it. She didn't entirely approve of Aizen, but she wasn't exactly fond of Seireitei any longer either. She wanted to say that wherever Ichigo fought, she could claim agreement. Ichigo was one of the most honest people she had ever known, and he only ever fought for one reason: to protect those closest to him. In many ways, the politics meant nothing to him.

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the sound of Renji's knife over the wood. She knew he was listening though, the motions mostly automatic and requiring little thought at the moment.

"In the end, it's not really our choice, is it?" Rukia pursed her lips together. "They said that the world will decide who is worthy when he or she sits on the throne. What we think doesn't really matter."

"Hmmm."

_Scritch_. The knife raked over the wood, sending a shaving to the floor.

"But would ya have fought?"

Her fingers felt cold, the sense of reiatsu rising and swirling, causing Sode no Shirayuki to practically pulsate. She thought of her friends and wondered how many of them knew the actual truth. She wondered if she could manage to lift her zanpakutou against them and not hesitate. Rukia would like to think that she had that strength of resolve, but the truth stared her in the face.

She shook her head. "Not for either side," Rukia finally decided, feeling an urge to rise to her feet and pace. The restlessness was becoming overbearing.

Rukia opened her mouth, thinking to add more, but then, she felt it. A flash of power and reiatsu, like a lightning strike flaring across her senses. She was on her feet in seconds, Renji copying her motions as their eyes met.

"_The key_..." she breathed.

Renji was sweating, and he clamped a hand down on Zabimaru. "Not just that. The throne, too."

The truth that Aizen must have taken his much desired seat was not spoken aloud. It did not need to be when the proof of it was tugging at the core of their powers, urging their reiatsu along for the ride. It was a sense of something shifting, a balance being restored where previously there had been nothing but chaos and scrabbling along for answers. And though neither knew precisely why, it was a reassuring feeling.

"So I guess that's it then," Renji murmured, unable to decide if he was pleased or disappointed. He supposed only time would tell, based on what exactly Aizen did with his newfound power.

Rukia shook her head and felt Sode no Shirayuki humming with newfound energy. "Not really," she replied, lowering herself back into her seat. "It's just started."

* * *

a/n: Well, that's the end of what I have for _Minutes to Midnight_. I do have a bunch of other drabbles planned that I just haven't written yet. So updates for this won't be regular anymore, but sporadic. It's not over till I mark it complete, though. So keep up your hopes! Also, keep an eye out for _After Dark_. It may be some time before I get it up because of all the other projects I have in the works, but it will be posted.

Also, an announcement! Starting next week (March 24, 2009), I will be taking a month-long hiatusin the interest of, well, actually writing something. To be honest, I don't have anything else to offer you guys, so I'm taking a month off to get something put together.

But! While you are all awaiting the new stuff I've got planned, _Seireitei Monogatari _will still get updated ANNNNND I will reopen the requests I previously closed. Now this all starts next week, so don't jump the fence and start requesting today, lol. But definitely start thinking about it. More information about requests and such will be announced in _Seireitei Monogatari's _update next week.


	40. Breakout

a/n: Long time no see, dear readers! I must admit, these aren't the updates you were waiting for. These are just two lingering little ficlets I had sitting on my harddrive. They are also the last of what I'll be posting for this series. Alas, but my Bleach muses are dead and they can't be revived. No matter how hard I try. So please enjoy the last ficlets I have left. **  
**

**Title: **Breakout

**Characters:**Renji, Rukia, Byakuya

**Description: **In which Rukia and Renji commit the act that pins them as traitors.

AN: Set before _Bitter Masquerade_.

* * *

It was past midnight by the time Unohana-taichou finally left the fourth division. The halls were quiet and shadowed with every patient sleeping quietly and only a minimal guard. It stood to reason that no one, no villain anyway, in their right mind would attack a hospital. So at most, they had only to worry about patrolling division members who were keeping an eye on their few patients.

The fourth had never been known for their soldiers. It was easy enough to sneak around. Easier even when one could explain their presence. Though Rukia had the feeling it would have been a lot easier if she hadn't needed to bring Renji along.

_Clatter. Thunk. _

"Goddamnit!"

Rukia worked her jaw. "When I said quietly, I didn't mean make as much noise as possible," she hissed, tossing a glare over her shoulder that he probably couldn't see anyway.

He muttered under his breath, but knowing better than to argue with her, he shut his mouth. Which was good because Rukia was feeling on edge enough as it was.

Peering around the corner, finding it empty, Rukia crept into the hallway, Renji right on her heels. She'd been here often enough; she could find her brother's room with her eyes closed and both hands tied behind her back. Fifth door on the right, probably closed because nii-sama couldn't sleep with open doors. One of his many random paranoias.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and not for the first time did Rukia question the logic of her actions. The reality of her decision. If she was really doing the right thing or if she was just overreacting. Or maybe, it was just time that she _decide _rather than straddle the fence.

Ichigo was her friend, and he hadn't killed nii-sama though he had the chance to do so. Yamamoto said he was a traitor, but Rukia wondered who had really done the betraying first. She knew Ichigo, or at least she thought she did. She trusted Ichigo had a good reason for the decisions he made. At the very least, Rukia wanted to ask him herself.

But first, she had to help nii-sama. And he wasn't going to find that help here in Seireitei. Not only would she _not _allow Kurotsuchi-taichou within ten feet of her brother, she suspected that the crazed scientist wouldn't have the first clue how to help him properly. There was only one other person Rukia could think of who could be any help. And if she had to turn traitor to find said person… well, Rukia would do it.

She and Renji arrived at her brother's door, closed as she expected it would be. Rukia slid it open quietly, ushering Renji in ahead of her as she glanced into the shadowed hallway again. Nothing stirred; no one was watching. All was well so far.

Inside nii-sama's room, it was equally silent and still. The moon filtered in through the thin curtains. Allowing enough illumination that Rukia could see her brother lying in his bed, tucked into the blankets and fast asleep. Drugged, more like it, on one of Unohana-taichou's special concoctions. Something to soothe frazzled nerves and assure a dreamless sleep.

Rukia stood at the end of her brother's bed and chewed her bottom lip. One hand fell to Sode no Shirayuki, seeking reassurance.

Beside her, Renji shifted from foot to foot.

"Rukia," he whispered though it wouldn't bother nii-sama in the slightest. With the drugs, her brother wouldn't wake until mid-morning, and by then, they'd be long gone from here. "Are ya sure about this?"

She turned toward him. Her face was full of disbelief.

"Don't tell me you're backing out now, Renji."

He shook his head. "No. I'm jes makin' sure ya know what yer doin'. We can't exactly turn back after this, yanno."

Renji was right, of course. This was a one way street. There'd be no turning around once Rukia took that first step. They couldn't come back. Well, they could, but their return would find them in a jail cell awaiting execution. Rukia had already been down that road before. She didn't want to travel it again.

Was she sure?

_They betrayed me first. _

_If you want to know why, ask the fucking old man. _

_He claimed that I was not his enemy. That he did not want to see me dead. _

Rukia sucked in a deep breath, opened her eyes. She had only spent months sleeping in Ichigo's closet. She'd trusted him enough that at their first meeting, she was willing to break the rules so he could save his family. He'd come for her in Soul Society against all odds. He'd risked his life for a woman he barely knew. Had risked everything to keep his promise to her and see it through.

She trusted Ichigo if nothing else. So yes, she was sure.

Rukia inclined her head and stepped toward the bed. She gestured to nii-sama's sleeping form.

"Yes," she replied with absolute certainty. "So help me pick him up. We've got to leave before someone decides to check on him."

Renji, for his part, did so without argument. Why he'd chosen to help her, Rukia did not know. But she suspected it was for the same reasons as Rukia herself.

He trusted Ichigo just as much.

There had to be a reason, a valid explanation. Rukia wanted to hear it for herself, from Ichigo's own lips, and if she had to run away in the dead of night with her friend and her unconscious brother, then so be it.

* * *

a/n: Feedback is always welcome.


	41. First Times

a/n: This here ficlet has a bit of smexin' in it. Be warned. **  
**

**Title: First Times  
Characters: GinxIchigo  
Rating: M  
Desc: Wherein Gin is less than confident and Ichigo has no clue what he's doing.  
**

**a/n: Takes place after _Breathe Slowly _and before _Soundproofing._**

* * *

****It was awkward and Gin wasn't sure why. This sort of thing should come natural to him, to Ichigo. But then, neither of them had any real experience in this arena. Ichigo had none and as for Gin's experience, the less he spoke of it, the better. And he didn't care for the copious amounts of literature the perverted shopkeeper had given him either.

They kissed, and that much Gin was confident of. Ichigo's tongue moving carefully against his, their bodies pressed together, the heat in the room amplified by their twining reiatsu. Gin's heart pounding in his chest and Ichigo's face flushed, probably an echo of Gin's own. His hands stroking down Ichigo's back.

The kiss was slow and steady, explorative and tasty. Until Ichigo pulled away, his hands smoothing down Gin's chest before finding the obi, toying with the knot. His face burned with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

A low growl resonated in Ichigo's throat as he jerked the knot open and the obi fell by the wayside. "I don't know how to make this sexy," he said, voice a touch exasperated, if only with himself. "So this is the best you're going to get."

Gin's unsavory past experience fizzled away in the back of his mind. This was nothing like Matsumoto and he was glad for it. So damn glad that he wished he had a deity to thank for it.

"It doesn't have to be," he said, feeling oddly confident now, oddly relieved. "The sex part comes after. Or during if you really want it that way."

Ichigo's blush deepened, his ears turning red, but it didn't bank the heat in his eyes, or the desire and the intent. "You like embarrassing me, don't you?"

Gin chuckled to himself, tugging off his overrobe and letting it slither to the floor. "Only a little," he admitted, and then reached for Ichigo, one hand curling around the teen's face to pull him in for a kiss as the other hooked in Ichigo's obi, loosening the knot so that it fell free.

Ichigo's noisy outcry was muffled by Gin's lips, and their bodies came together again, lacking one of several layers of clothing. It came easier after that, more natural, Gin's hands deftly peeling away layers of white as Ichigo struggled and quickly overcame the robes draped over Gin's figure.

When they finally came together, skin to skin, it was even simpler. Gin's mouth traced a hot trail across Ichigo's jaw, nibbling at his sensitive throat, making his lover moan. Ichigo's hands kneaded his skin, pressing them together, his arousal leaving a wet streak on Gin's thigh. The awkwardness faded, leaving behind desire and comfort, the twining of their reiatsu all the reassurance Gin ever needed.

* * *

a/n: This was actually a flash fiction requested on my livejournal, which I tidied up for your reading pleasure. This is also why it's so short.


	42. Meet the Parent

**Title: **Meet the Parent

**Characters:**Isshin, Gin, Ichigo

**Description: **Gin meet Goat-face. Goat-face, Gin.

AN: Set after_ Ripples _and _At World's End_.

* * *

"Dad, this is Gin," Ichigo said and felt like he was sweating bullets as he stood between his lover and his father, who were eyeing each other warily. "Gin, this is my father."

And with that, Ichigo took a step back and watched the ensuing show. He wasn't quite sure how this was going to play out. He'd never brought a girlfriend home before, much less a boyfriend, and the fact that his lover was a Shinigami-slash-Vizard and _Ichimaru Gin_ meant that Ichigo wasn't sure how Isshin was going to react.

Though to be fair, Isshin owed Ichigo a good bit of tolerance. After holding that secret about being a Shinigami for _years_ and not telling Ichigo until after the war, Isshin really had no leg to stand on. Besides, if Isshin did attack, Ichigo was quite confident that Gin could take down the old man in two seconds flat. Especially since Isshin was woefully out of practice, grown lazy over the years in his gigai.

His gigai!

Ichigo was still pretty pissed about that. Where the hell was Isshin when Ichigo needed advice? He could have used his damn father's input!

But no. Now was not the time to bring up that discussion again. Now was the time for Ichigo to watch his father and his lover size each other up and intervene if necessary.

Gin tilted his head in a shallow but respectful bow. "Kurosaki-san," he greeted in a tone of polite coolness that he must've learned from Aizen. "It's interestin' ta meet ya at last. I've heard a lot 'bout ya."

Lies. Oh, but it was a smooth one. Ichigo barely talked about his family aside from his sisters. But then, that seemed to be the standard response to any initial greeting.

Ichigo's eyes shifted to Isshin, who was peering at Gin as though he were a new sort of Hollow. One that needed immediate smashing.

"Well, I haven't heard anything about you," Isshin retorted, belligerent and curt. Reiatsu radiating outward as though he planned to launch himself forward and attack.

Ichigo tensed. Gin could squash his dad in about a second or less. But it'd be such a pain to peel Isshin up from Aizen's immaculate floor. And really, Ichigo didn't want to see so much blood on what was a nice day.

Though the fact that he was treating Gin as though he were courting on Isshin's daughter as opposed to his son – who could take perfect care of himself thank you very much – was a bit aggravating. Okay, not a bit. It was a lot aggravating. In fact, Ichigo was starting to get a tad peeved himself.

"I can tell ya all ya need ta know," Gin replied with a bit of a smirk curling his lips.

If anything, Gin's response seemed to make Isshin angrier. He puffed up like a frazzled lizard, gaze getting darker.

"I don't need _you_ to tell me a damn thing about my own son. I'm more interested in what you think you're doing with him."

Gin quirked a brow, perfectly nonplussed. Not at all intimidated despite Isshin's posturing. In fact, an amused twinkle started gleaming in the corner of his eye. Ichigo felt a small stirring of dread, hoping that Gin didn't go the route that would result in fisticuffs.

"Are we talkin' long term or short term?" Gin asked.

Ichigo groaned. He swore on all that was holy that if Gin taunted his father with details of their intimate life, then Ichigo was going to sock Gin for Isshin. Just because.

Isshin's eyes narrowed. "Long term," he ground out.

Gin grinned, and to Ichigo's utter relief, most of the teasing slipped away in favor of seriousness. "Well, in that case, I plan ta keep him. Forever if possible. And if he'll let me."

Some of the wind let out of Isshin's sails. Ichigo was impressed. Gin had said everything Isshin wanted to hear without sounding overly sappy. Perfect.

"I see," Isshin returned, though a shred of suspicion remained in his tone. "I still don't trust you, kid. But it's not really my place to stop anything."

"No, it isn't," Ichigo spoke up and reminded both of them that yes, he was still here. And no, he wouldn't let them decide anything for him. "I didn't let you meet so you could drive him away, dad. I just thought you should meet."

Isshin harrumphed. "I get that, son." He glanced at Ichigo from the corner of his eyes before turning to Gin with a look of near-gleeful malice. "But wait until you meet my daughters. Karin and Yuzu aren't so easygoing."

Ah. Isshin had a valid point. Gin didn't look concerned, but then, he hadn't met Ichigo's sisters yet.

_That _would be interesting to say the least. Ichigo couldn't wait.

* * *

a/n: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and critiqued this fic. It was an experiment from day one, and I'm glad to see that readers could enjoy it. I regret that the anticipated sequel won't ever see the light of day. I'm out of Bleach fandom and can honestly say that if I force it, it'll be utter crap. And I don't like to write crap.

I know there are more questions left behind, and feel free to ask them. I'll compile them and add them to the end of this fic as a FAQ so that everyone can benefit.

Thanks again everyone!


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